Winter's Last Chill
by MorganRay
Summary: In the midst of winter, Remus Lupin travels to Sweden on a reluctant mission. However, even deep frost can begin to melt at the touch of the spring sun.
1. Chapter 1

Winter's Last Chill

By MorganRay

Lilacs

The gilded clock hand ticked across the face of the ancient, grandfather clock perched in the corner of the office where dust flitted through sunbeams. The room was underground, but the side of the room opposite the doorway had three small windows with shafts above ground that allowed jets of light to pass into the underground office. The faint light managed its way through the layers of dust and splayed across the oak desk, cluttered with rolls of parchment and stacks of paper. These rays illuminated the purple bags under the eyes along with every care worn line on the face of the man who sat in the lone chair across from the desk.

The faint sunbeams highlighted every graying hair on the head of Remus Lupin as he sat patiently, waiting for the door to reopen behind him. He stared past the wall, quite bored with the room and its empty walls. The only real fixtures were the desk and the grandfather clock that slowly ticked away the seconds as the gilded pendulum swung back and forth in a never-ending rhythm.

Eventually, there was a creaking as the wooden door swung slowly open and a man with a thick silver beard, yet completely bald, walked into the room. He wore a flowing black robe that touched the ground, sweeping up the layer of dust on the floor, and a dapper black suit, complete with an elegant silver cane with the engraving of a bear's head at the top.

'_It's probably an heir loom,_' Remus mused as he viewed the ornamental cane that he conjectured the man could walk without. The old gentlemen walked silently over to the desk, and added the pieces of parchment he'd brought onto the mountainous stack already there.

"The Wizarding government of Sweden would officially like to welcome you to our country, Mr. Lupin." There was no cheer or sincerity in the greeting as the man shuffled through the papers on his desk and drew his wand out of his deep robe pocket. In his dry, weary voice that fit the dusty room, he ordered, "Take out your wand."

Remus did what he was told and extended his ten and a half inch willow wand to the man. The man gave it two taps, and two long colored stripes appeared from tip to tip on the wand as if they'd been burned in; instead of being singed black, though, the wood had burned one gray and green stripe burned into it.

"Your luggage is being checked. An personnel assistant will acclimate you to your surroundings and the situation at hand." Here, the man paused as he gave Remus back his wand. The man's serious stare locked into Remus's eyes. "I will make myself clear that you have a limited time to attend to your business here."

"I read the papers," Remus replied casually, yet he felt no warmth from this man. '_I'm surprised they let me in_,' Remus thought with no joy or mirth. This was a mission, a duty that he needed to perform.

The man gestured Remus towards the door, and he obediently stood up and walked out into the hallway before the man as he stowed his wand into the pocket of his tattered gray robe. The hallway outside the room had the same stuffy feel as the little room, and there were no other doors in the hallway except the one Remus had just left.

After ages of walking through the hallway, hearing his own footsteps, Remus reached the end, which opened up into a wide, domed lobby. There were two sets of fireplaces, each with a mantel that housed a jar of Floo powder like in the Ministry of Magic that Remus was familiar with seeing. However, the dome above was similar to the artificial ceiling at Hogwarts and reflected the sky of a peaceful summer day, complete with cotton ball clouds.

On the other side of the room, by a set of oaken doors with silver engravings in words Remus couldn't read, was stationed a sturdy, oaken desk about twice the length of a man. Various suitcases and items were piled upon the desk, and the people coming through the fireplaces were checking their wands and any other items at the desk before proceeding through the huge doors to the rest of the Ministry.

"Greger!"

Remus viewed the young man who shouted a greeting to them as the two emerged from the hallway. The young man wore a pinstriped, red wine colored suit that had the potential to look absolutely ridiculous. However, on the tall yet muscularly lean young man, who seemed to be made for the crimson red suit, it looked presentable and slightly stylish. The suit had gray stripes that ended at his immaculately polished black shoes running the entire length of both jacket and pants

'_Personnel_,' Remus thought as he warily eyed up the grinning young man, who exuded an aura of youthful enthusiasm. His look was complete with an ebony, suede bowling hat, which seemed to absorb all light that might reflect off it; also from the sides of the man's head protruded platinum blond hair.

"Mr. Remus Lupin, this is Bjorn Asketorp, who will be your adjustment guide and will secure your luggage is back in your possession," the older man replied blandly as he gave the youth a withering look.

As he reached them, Bjorn's already exuberant face split into a genuinely friendly smile, reveling his immaculate teeth. "You introduce me so blandly. Mr. Lupin, pleased to meet you."

Before he could react, Remus's hand was wrenched from his side in a vigorous handshake. Remus returned a polite, business like smile to the friendly youth.

"Mr. Asketorp, you read the papers from London, I assume?" Greger's tone had gone from bland to a stiff air of annoyance. Remus looked between the two men, noticing that Greger seemed to react as if a rotting food had been placed under his nose.

Bjorn gave Greger a careless wave of his hand as he motioned Remus to follow him. "Can't wait to see you again," Bjorn called cheerfully over his shoulder as he strode in front of Remus towards the long desk by the oaken doors. He reached his hand in the enormous stack of suitcases and picked out Remus's tattered suitcase.

"This way," Bjorn called chipperly to Remus as he strode briskly over to one of the fireplaces, suitcase still in his hand. Remus eyed the suitcase as he arrived at the fire, coming eye level to Bjorn's cheek and nose. Bjorn tossed a handful of Floo powder into the smoldering flames as he called out, "Adelsvärd Restaurant and Pub!"

As the flames turned green, Bjorn gestured that Remus should go first. Remus ducked to avoid the low mantel and stepped into the flames. In a whirl of soot and flame, Remus arrived into another fireplace with huge stones that may have once sat on the bottom of a riverbed. Remus stepped out, and Bjorn followed right behind him. Both men dusted themselves off, and Bjorn walked confidently forward as if he was very familiar with this place.

'_Right into the lounge,_' Remus realized as he looked over at the group of people giving their names to the waitress who had her hair tied up in a bun and was wearing a flowing, plum dress with long sleeves. She ushered them through the stone arch and into the interior, where Bjorn had confidently strode moments before.

'_He still has my suitcase_,' Remus reminded himself as he quickly darted through the arch and caught up to Bjorn. The youthful Swede gestured Remus to take a seat at the three-legged barstool on his right. Remus sat down and stared around at the elegant decor of beautiful, thick plum drapes the color of the waitresses' dresses. All the furniture was varnished a rich shade of mahogany, and white candles burning at every table illuminated all the deep colors.

One of the waitresses with her plum dress and neatly tied up hair came over and asked, "What will it be?"

"The usual," Bjorn told her offhandedly; she then turned to Remus.

"Butterbeer?" Remus asked tentatively, thinking of the only sort of semi-alcoholic beverage he drank. The waitress gave a nod and went off to fetch their drinks. Remus stared down and studied the grain of the oaken bar, which had been varnished in the same rich, mahogany color as the rest of the wood.

"Greger didn't put you off, did he? The old chap does that occasionally." Remus stared up as Bjorn spoke to him and gave a deft nod as he met the young man's watery blue eyes that sparkled with a certain light that only belongs to the young.

"Nothing a drink won't cure," Remus replied, and Bjorn chuckled at his comment. "I couldn't possibly think the two of you are related, though."

"Hmm, picked up on that one?" Bjorn said as he gave Remus a nod. "There are lots of similar names in Sweden, but we're the only wizard family who has the name Asketorp. It's interesting how it turns out, though, with personality. My grandfather and I are polar opposites, although he chooses to be crotchety about it."

'_Crotchety might be an understatement_,' Remus decided as he remembered Greger Asketorp's aloof and snobby attitude towards him and distinct disdain for his grandson. At that moment, the waitress brought one glass of red wine and a mug of butterbeer over to the two men.

"Let me know if there's anything I can get for you," she replied politely as she flashed them a smile and strode off to wait on another customer. Remus took a sip of his drink, looking out of the corner of his eye as Bjorn took a tiny sip of his wine.

Bjorn took a second taste of his wine. "This will never stain my suit," Bjorn joked as Remus sat down his mug. Both men sat silently and drank for a couple moments before Bjorn set down his wineglass and waited for Remus to swallow his butterbeer and set down his mug, too.

"Your papers said you taught at Hogwarts for a year," Bjorn began amiably. Remus felt the slight boast in his mood drop for a second, knowing every little detail that was on those papers that had been sent from London. He'd verified them all in the stifling office of Greger Asketorp, under whose strict gaze Remus had been silent. "The roof inside our Ministry is a copy of the Hogwarts's ceiling, although I've never seen it myself. We don't mimic the real weather, of course, but keep it always a beautiful, blue sky."

"It's the first copy I've seen," Remus replied as he took another sip of his drink. He put down his mug. On cue, Bjorn launched into more conversation.

"I heard they're hosting the Triwizard this year," Bjorn said as he locked his bright eyes with Remus's eyes, which were the color of fresh mud. "It's something I would've liked if I'd been seventeen."

"It's dangerous." Deciding to not make another comment, Remus took another sip of his butterbeer. The subject of Hogwarts's strange happenings at the Triwizard, with Harry as the fourth champion, didn't settle well in Remus's mind.

"Sweden finally got its own school, which is celebrating its thirtieth birthday this coming year." Remus stared over at Bjorn, whose voice swelled with great pride at this point. Remus nodded for Bjorn to continue, glad to have the conversation pass from his personal life and occupation.

"The Lärling School of Wizardry, out side of Stockholm, is relatively new compared to the older schools like Hogwarts, but it has gained enrollment in the past decade. I went there myself, and was planning on returning for the festivities next year," Bjorn informed Remus, who listened to his host's enthusiastic explanation of his school with slight nods to urge him to continue. "The school's not that large, and of course, it's hidden with magical charms from Muggle eyes and looks like a very large, crumbling farm manor, but it's large enough to house a Quidditch court. The Swedish ministry has adopted a form of test similar to NEWTS, although we give the test in the fourth year. From fifth year forward, we're separated into smaller lodgings outside of the main manor depending on how well we did on what area. My expertise was in Charms."

At this point, Bjorn stopped his speech and took a small sip of his wine. Remus waited for Bjorn to finish his drink this time as he rested both of his arms on the bar top, although he didn't prop himself up on his elbows.

"As I was saying, our school's not old, so many people were educated abroad or privately before the Ministry set up our school," Bjorn continued with unflagging enthusiasm.

"The Ministry has control over your teachers and headmasters, then?" Remus interrupted Bjorn, who paused with his mouth open to speak again. He recovered and then began to answer Remus's question.

"Yes, they don't directly elect the Headmaster, per say, but they evaluate all teacher selections." At this, Remus involuntarily felt a frown come over his face. '_Not a good policy_,' Remus privately thought of his own special appointment that wouldn't have happened under government regulations.

"I've never had a problem with a teacher. I've found most of the faculty quite ready to help me," Bjorn replied as he took another sip of wine. Remus took another gulp of his butterbeer and both men finished swallowing and set down their mugs at about roughly the same time, which had become the general cue for Bjorn to strike up the conversation again.

"Did you get the chance to catch up with the wizarding news here in Sweden?" Bjorn inquired as he looked at Remus, his voice taking on a slightly more serious tone. Remus gave a deft nod, remembering the gruesome headlines.

"It's a terrible thing that happened," Remus replied sincerely, remembering the pictures that littered the paper. They showed the mangled bodies on the inside cover, but the huge monster was pictured dead on the front with people poking and prodding it with wands.

"Those three nutters managed to unleash two very rabid cave trolls upon a small wizarding hamlet around Are, near the Äresjön River," Bjorn recounted with more somberness that Remus had yet seen him express. He shook his head and chuckled, though, as he said, "My grandfather gave me the pleasant job of dealing with the grieving relatives when they arrived at the Ministry."

'_Intense dislike, to say the least, but giving him that assignment is cruel,_' Remus reflected silently on what Bjorn had said. He was sure this wasn't the first time that his grandfather had probably given him a difficult situation hoping to rid him from his sight forever. Remus looked over at Bjorn, respecting the young man more now that he knew what he might tolerate from his grandfather.

"It sounds like the worst disaster since Black Noël," Remus commented more to himself than Bjorn. Bjorn looked over at Remus, a genuinely keen interest in his eyes.

"I wasn't alive then, but I've heard a couple of our older aurors muttering something about Black Noël. That was during the Terror Years, wasn't it?" Remus turned towards Bjorn, almost as reluctant to talk about the years of fear that petrified the wizarding world as his past history. He met Bjorn's eager eyes, unsure of what to tell the youth. He'd heard of Black Noël, which received the front page in the Prophet when it happened. Remus vividly remembered the picture of the Swedish Minister of Magic's body swinging limply by the wrists as he hung from a spire atop a church.

"It wasn't a good time, and yes, it was one of the first and most notable autocracies outside of the English Isles and Ireland." Remus carefully chose his words, deciding that was all he was going to say on the matter. '_He'll have to ask someone else_,' Remus decided as he took a rather long swing of his butterbeer. '_I'll relive the past soon enough._'

As Remus set down his nearly empty mug, Bjorn remained silent for several moments before he spoke, his voice recharged with enthusiasm. "You've visited us at a good time of year. It's going to be Walpurgis Night soon, which is a good time for all."

"I don't know if I'll be here that long," Remus answered hesitantly and without enthusiasm, sure that Bjorn already knew this.

"You'll leave the next day, Walpurgis Day, but it's Walpurgis Night that's the real draw in Southern Sweden. It's a great holiday to get a drink, toast in spring, and of course, enjoy a bonfire." Bjorn raised his wineglass in the air as if giving a toast.

"I'm afraid I probably am not going to celebrating." Remus finished his butterbeer after his tactful remark which he hoped had gotten the point across to Bjorn that he didn't come to Sweden to celebrate anything, much less the coming of spring with a drink in his hand, gathered around some blazing fire with drunkards.

"Shame," Bjorn replied as he finished his wine and pulled a purse from his pocket, "It's a great time. A personal favorite for me." Bjorn pulled out the Swedish equivalent of a galleon and several silver coins and placed them on the counter.

"Well, although that was a pleasant drink, I imagine after my grandfather's drilling and my blabbering you'd like to get settled into your room." Bjorn stood up, and Remus snatched up his own suitcase before Bjorn could do so. Bjorn strode out towards the lobby, and Remus once again followed his host, who tipped his hat to one of the waitresses as he opened the door.

A gust of cold air met Remus as he stepped from the cozy atmosphere of the restaurant into the blistering wind that blew over the tiny town of Or outside Stockholm. The clouds hung low, infusing their ominous mood into the landscape and sucking the color out of the buildings, leaving only bland hues tinged in shades of gray. The sky brooded with the tempest of an oncoming storm and was a far cry from the serene ceiling inside the Swedish Ministry. Remus pulled his thin robes tighter around him, silently cursing that they couldn't keep out the bitter chill.

"Spring is coming, huh?" Remus shouted to Bjorn, who held his hat down on his head with one hand.

"The real spring won't be here for a couple weeks after Walpurgis," Bjorn hollered back to Remus as he motioned him to follow with his free hand. The pair fought against the thrashing winds that would strike from one side and whip back to hit from the other as they made their way down the street until they reached a three level building. Bjorn pushed open the black door that almost blew shut the moment it opened, and he held it as Remus darted inside out of the gale.

"Lovely weather," Bjorn muttered as he slammed the door behind Remus. After brushing his hair out of his face, Remus took a look at where they were. It was a quaintly decorated lobby with a couple cushioned wooden chairs and a voluptuous couch positioned around a glass topped coffee table. There were some silk flowers in a vase setting on the table, and the decorator seemed to have a thing for flowers because there were pastel roses in the wall paper design, too. _'Very Victoria feel_,' Remus mused as he studied the wood trimming on the walls.

The place was silent, and the thick rose carpet seemed to absorb every sound. Remus noted that Bjorn had already strolled over to the desk with a wooden door behind it that sat in the far corner of the room. He rang a bell, and the gentle chiming echoed throughout the empty lobby. Eventually, the door opened and a portly woman that was probably in her fifties or sixties appeared at the desk. She had obviously chosen the decorations because the color of her dress matched the carpet perfectly.

"My dear! I dozed off." The woman gave Bjorn a key as Remus made his way over to the desk. "I'm Mrs. Olofssondotter, the manager, and if you need anything at all, dear, just give the old brass candle stick a tap of your wand, and I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you." Remus returned the woman's warm smile as he followed Bjorn to another door on the opposite side of the room. Bjorn used the key, opened it, and led Remus up a rickety staircase that had steps so used that Remus could feel the indent where people uncounted had trod before him. They passed up the first floor and proceeded to the second, where Bjorn opened the door that had 'Floor Two' written in Swedish, which led onto the second landing. There was no carpet upstairs, and both of their footsteps echoed on the worn and scuffed wooden floor as Bjorn led Remus down the deserted landing.

"I take it there's not much tourism," Remus commented as he stared at the numbered rooms without hearing another sound.

"No, there's a small group of wizards here, but not a lot of visitors," Bjorn commented. "Most guests stay in Stockholm near the Ministry."

Bjorn reached door 223 at the end of the hallway with the key, and then handed it back to Remus, who stowed it away with his wand. Bjorn gestured Remus into his room, which had a bathroom attached to it and a little archway that led to a separate bedroom off the tiny sitting room. The room with its bare wooden floors was sparsely furnished with a small wooden coffee table and two plush chairs that sat in front of a window. The chairs were decorated in a faded flower pattern and were most definitely used furniture that had seen some wear. Remus walked over and pulled back the mauve curtains on the window, looking through the thick, slightly warped glass on the dreary little streets of Or.

"It'll take an hour at most to clear the Muggles out and away from the house. We'll go see the house and sort out a couple details," Bjorn informed Remus as he gave him a parting wave accompanied with his cheery smile that seemed to be the only thing bright in the room.

Bjorn shut the door, and Remus set his suitcase down beside one of the chairs and stared around his adobe for the next several days. He rubbed his head, knowing that although he felt drained now, that feeling probably wasn't going to change in the coming days. Bjorn's chipper attitude had been a positive boast Remus didn't realize he'd been getting until the man left.

'_The bedroom_,' Remus thought as he stared at the archway that led into the tiny bedroom. He walked into the little room that was just long enough to fit a twin bed and just wide enough to fit the bed and a tiny nightstand beside it. Remus kept the drapes pulled on the window similar to the one in the sitting room as he pulled down the thin green comforter that had lost all its plush because of wear.

'_Lilacs_,' Remus realized as he stared at the nightstand while he pulled down the plain, white sheets. He stopped and picked up the silken flowers from the dusty vase. He fingered them gently, somehow wishing they were real. Remus laid them down on the dresser as he took off his shoes and his robe and crawled into bed, determined to rest for a couple moments before Bjorn came back.

Cars and buses swirled down the busy avenues through downtown London past apartments made of bricks the color of worn earth or hot coals. The majority of the buildings had been refurbished, but along the narrow alleyways the rending scars of the Second World War could be viewed. Music hummed from some open windows in the middle of the sweltering heat and some children stopped to splash around in a public fountain. A group of girls walked down the street as the children scuttled away giggling over a magazine with a cover of The Beatles on it. Across the city, horns honked and people bustled about in the hazy days of summer along the Thames.

However, a young boy, no older than seven with hair the color of warm sand that is touched by the waves day in and out, could have cared less about the world swirling around him. The streets were fascinating with all the people clad in suits, brightly colored silks, and such, but he liked the clothing his mother picked out for him well enough. Although, in this heat, he wanted to take off the woolen, mahogany jacket because of the material that made him itchy when he sweated.

The petit woman who walked beside her son resisted in a soft, melodic voice, "Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter." The little boy looked up as his mother, whose gray eyes were lost in a dreamy haze of years long forgotten. Indeed, she appeared to have stepped through a door of an English country house from the Victorian age. Her honey hair was pulled back in a tight bun that permitted several ringlets to flow beside her heart shaped face.

She smiled down at her son, and her face appeared as a flower bud blossoming into its potential beauty. "Therefore, ye soft pipes, play on," she continued as her son looked up at her with his eyes the color of the soft, brown shade under a willow tree in the summer.

"Not to the sensual ear," here he paused and bit his lower lip as he scraped his memory for the words, " but, more endeared," the boy finished the line.

"Lovely!" The mother laughed like clear church bells chiming across open fields, calling everyone towards them. Indeed, many of the Muggles along the street shot glances at the peculiar woman dressed in a full-length cotton dress the color of lilacs blooming in the sun.

She turned and grinned amiably at her son, who was dressed in trousers to match his jacket. "You're such a clever boy, Remmy."

"You say it all the time," the boy replied modestly for a seven year old, but grinned in pleasure at his mother's encouraging words.

"Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone." With those words, which came out as naturally as a stream flows downhill, the pair turned the corner into a narrow alley surrounded by dilapidated buildings. People rushing by on the streets took a brief second to question why such a finely dressed woman with her young son would be going down such an alleyway.

However, the pair soon came to a phone booth that looked like the phone hadn't worked since the Second World War. She led her son inside and closed the door once both were jammed into the confined space. She dialed the numbers 6-2-4-4-2 as if only recalling an old friend's phone number.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic Head Quarters. Please state your name and business," the voice of a witch echoed throughout the booth as if she, too, was smashed into the tiny space.

"Evelyn Lupin and Remus Lupin here to retrieve Edouard Lupin for a picnic lunch," Evelyn responded sweetly as the elevator descended underground, where the pair soon arrived at the gates to the Atrium, the grand entrance to the Ministry of Magic.

Remus had seen the halls before, but the vaulted ceilings crawling with glittering, golden symbols of long forgotten languages across a canvas of sapphire blue always entranced his eyes the most. He tilted his head directly back so it hurt his neck just to gaze up at the ornate ceiling. Evelyn reached down and took her daydreaming son's hand in her left one as they entered the jostling crowd that was comprised of Ministry workers and other visitors.

Evelyn hoisted the over-laden picnic basket in her left hand up on her shoulder as she used her now free hand to draw her wand from her right sleeve. The pair took their time being shuffled around by the crowd until they reached the security desk. Evelyn produced her wand and gave the clerk with a sagging face her brightest smile, which had the affect of causing a warm glow to illuminate her features. However, the man didn't seem phased or in a more pleasant mood as he handed her back her wand. She stashed it back in her sleeve as she readjusted her picnic basket, with festive flowery cloth handing out over the edges, into her hand again.

With the same bright smile that caused her cheeks to have a glow that was more natural than any rouge or powder make-up, she told her young son, who was staring ahead anxious to the elevators, two words. "Race you."

Remus's eyes widened in excitement as he pulled away from his mother's hand and dashed across the polished cherry floor towards the gilded elevator doors. Evelyn ran easily in her low healed shoes and kept pace several strides behind her son. Remus cut through the crowd, bumping into various witches and wizards wearing long, flowing cloaks of velvet and silk, and Evelyn gave no heed to any of these important persons, either.

The door of the third elevator on the right opened, and Remus bolted for the door just as people began to spill out. Evelyn, jostled around by the masses because of her picnic basket, found a path for herself and arrived in the elevator just moments after Remus.

She laughed as she leaned against the back wall of the elevator with her son, who grinned up at her. "I beat you, mum."

"Indeed," she panted, but laughed merrily more like a young schoolgirl than a mother. As the elevator filled with more witches and wizards, some cast looks at the woman whose hair had come loose as she raced her son in a very juvenile fashion across the Ministry Atrium.

The voice in the elevator announced when they reached the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Evelyn bent down and whispered in Remus's ear with a playful grin, "Race you to dad's office."

As soon as the doors opened, Remus bolted out, but Evelyn muttered 'excuse me' hastily several times as she sliced through the remaining people in the elevator. Barely two strides outside of the elevator, she looked up and saw Remus charge head on into an older wizard with a flowing, white beard.

"Albus," Evelyn responded with as much dignity as possible considering her hair had come mostly undone. "Remus and I were just having a little race to get to Edouard first."

Evelyn reached down and helped Remus up and immediately began to brush off his clothes and ran her fingers through his hair to straighten it out a little bit. With a twinkle in his eyes, Dumbledore replied, "I dare say he should be just about finished."

Evelyn gave Dumbledore her sunshine smile. "He says not a one of you knows how to manage financial matters in this department."

"And tell him that's why he's an accountant and not I," Dumbledore replied cordially. "I'm going to be late for a luncheon, but have a nice day."

"You too," Evelyn answered in her clear, sweet voice as she waved goodbye. Remus hadn't met the man many times, but he waved back, too, because his childish instincts told him that the man was good, especially if he was so nice to his mother. When Remus heard his mother's skirts start to rustle, he turned to see her several strides ahead of him, and he ran forward to draw beside her again. They passed by three windows, which displayed a serene tropical beach with transparent, sparkling blue water and plants so luscious that one could hardly imagine they existed. Evelyn entered into the door that led to the Auror office that worked almost unceasingly whether it was storming or there was a heat wave. Evelyn politely waved to several of the people as she passed them, heading towards the very last desk in the corner of the room.

Evelyn walked directly behind her husband who was wearing a gray suit. He had draped the jacket over his chair and wore a midnight blue shirt underneath it. He ran his hand through his tawny hair cut above his ears, yet it hung lank and straight in the style worn by certain gentleman. Evelyn smirked admiringly as she watched her husband rummage through a small bundle of papers. "Edouard Lupin, I was under the impression that you promised a picnic to a certain wife and child."

"Evey!" Edouard exclaimed as he jumped in his chair. He spun around and stared at his wife with her bedraggled hair and full, strawberry lips shaped in an amused smile. "I-I need more time."

"Dad!" Remus protested after having stood obediently by his mother the entire time. Edouard's lips turned up in a warm smile as he stared at his son who had the same, soft brown eyes he did. He patted the boy on the head before looking back up at Evelyn.

"These were going to be sent out," Edouard muttered as he picked up some of the papers and waved them in Evelyn's face. "I think," Edouard murmured, then pulled his wife closer to him, pausing as if to say something drastically important.

In a soft voice, the way only a wife speaks to a husband, Evelyn put her mouth to Edouard's ear and whispered, "I think you could use a break, Eddy."

"I . . . ," Edouard muttered, feeling his mouth go dry for a moment. He closed his eyes and let out a long repressed sigh. "I'll gather these because they're coming."

Edouard stood up and pulled up a black leather brief case where he stashed all the papers he'd been examining on his desk. He tapped it shut with his wand before dropping the wand in his pocket and hoisting the briefcase off his desk with his right hand.

Edouard flashed the pair a smile, and the lines and cares of work that lingered on his face fell off in an instant. There was something less stuffy and more youthful about the accountant when he walked side by side with his wife from the Auror office with their little son plodding along behind them. With a flirty smile, Evelyn snatched her older husband's hand as they reached the main hallway. Edouard smiled and a slight blush came over his face when she acted like a schoolgirl instead of a mother. Some of the people cast a glance or two at the direction of the woman dressed in an out of style Muggle dress and the other wise respectable wizard whose judgement must have lapsed to marry such a woman.

However, no one gave the little boy a stare as he reluctantly walked behind his parents. Remus obediently entered the elevator behind the pair and stood in front of them as his mother whispered something in his father's ear. He looked up as his father's eyes would sparkle and then he would chuckle after almost everything his wife murmured to him. Remus frowned, shuffling his feet in boredom, hating when his parents ignored him.

As they walked across the polished cherry floor of the grand Atrium, Remus ran into his parent's locked hands and tried to wrestle them apart. In her soft, untroubled voice, Evelyn asked, "Remmy, what's the matter?"

"I want you to swing me," Remus pleaded as he looked up between his parents with his best puppy-dog star. Evelyn laughed and took one of Remus's hands while waiting for Edouard to take the other.

"He's too old," Edouard murmured, slightly put off that his youthful flirtation with Evelyn was over. He also became more keenly aware of the throng of people than either his wife or innocent son did.

"Nonsense!" Evelyn declared as Remus grabbed his father's left hand. Edouard let a slight smile creep across his face as Remus curled his legs up so he wouldn't touch the ground, and then he and Evelyn pumped their arms back and forth to mimic the motion of a swing. Across the Atrium and towards the exit fireplaces the trio went, Remus suspended between both parents.

Edouard let go of his son's hand when he had to snatch a pinch of sparkling Floo Powder from the jar sitting above one of the polished, gilded fireplaces. Edouard threw some in, and Evelyn gripped Remus's hand and pushed him in behind his father before she, too, stepped into the swirling green flames.

Edouard articulated each syllable of "Madame Grey's" so that there was no mistake where the three were going. With a swirl of neon green light, the family found themselves in a very different fireplace. The stones that made up the fireplace looked as if they'd just been dug from a creek bed, dried, and cemented together into the wall. Evelyn stepped out first, Remus in hand, followed by Edouard, who set down his brief case to dust off his suit. Evelyn fluffed the ash off her dress before patting down Remus.

The three were in a windowless storage room, only illuminated by the faint light of the fire. Boxes labeled with various kinds of teas were piled in the corner, and on the mantle above the fire sat a tiny teacup filled with Floo powder.

Pushing open the lone door into the room, Evelyn looked around the teashop to find it deserted. "Auntie Grey," Evelyn called cheerfully as she stepped from the closet, unafraid of Muggles wondering how three strangers happened to materialize from the storage room.

Bustling out from another backroom, which was behind the oak counter covered with a lace table runner that served as a place to checkout, came a short, slightly plump woman in her sixties. She was carrying a pot of hot water on a silver tray, and she set it on the counter and brushed several strands of her graying hair out of her rosy face. "Stop by for some tea?"

"No, Auntie, we're going on a picnic," Evelyn replied as she held up the basket to show it to her only magical relative.

"Take some tea, then," Grey offered enthusiastically as she went to get several wrapped bags out of their respective places on the shelf behind her, which was stacked with various types of teas in shiny, well-labeled boxes.

"We have lemonade. It's more proper for picnics," Evelyn pointed out as Remus tugged at his mother's hand. He'd already spotted the grass fields beyond the sidewalk, and the aura of a lazy summer day called to him like every curious and playful child.

Edouard have Evelyn's aunt a nod of his head. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

"You're always welcome," Grey responded as she beamed down at Remus, who shot her a small smile, knowing she was important to his mother, but his eyes quickly fixed themselves on the sunlit fields of grass that seemed to sparkle under the azure sky. Evelyn gave a brief wave to her aunt as Edouard opened the door for his wife and his son to exit first. The little bell above the glass door tinkled as Evelyn and Remus once again stepped out into the humid summer day.

However, it wasn't the sweltering heat from the city that radiated up from the concrete. The sun beat down, hot but comforting, and the wild flowers in the fields beyond seemed to soak up the sunlight and send off their sweet perfume in return. The incense of the growing flowers in the greened summer grass hung heavy in the humid air as the threesome crossed directly from the door of the tea shop to the fields of flowers that were directly outside its door. Evelyn hiked up her skirt slightly with her free hand as she walked uphill in the grass the came to her knees.

"Remmy, go to that tree and save our spot!" Evelyn shouted as she pointed to an oak tree laden down with thick green leaves that sat alone on the top of a little green knoll amidst the sea of wildflowers. Remus sprinted through the grass, dashing towards the distant tree.

Evelyn laughed with glee as she watched her little son race forward. "Run!" She shouted as Edouard put his arm around her shoulders. Sweat trickled down his forehead as the two of them began to leisurely stroll up hill towards the tree that Remus was already trying to climb.

"He's got all your cheer," Edouard remarked as he smiled down at his young wife. She flashed him her ever-present smile.

"What was wrong today?" Evelyn asked as she looked up into her husband's calm eyes that color of tilled earth. "You seemed so tense."

"I think there's some . . . fraud," Edouard replied in a soft, terse voice. Evelyn waited patiently for him to continue as they kept strolling towards the shade of the oak. "Several of the aurors complained that they weren't receiving adequate pay, and the notes Gringotts is giving me don't correspond with some of the numbers I'm getting . . . oh, Evey, it could be that money is getting pocketed by someone on the inside."

She laughed, and her voice echoed across the serene fields. "Let it go for today! You can go find your thief tomorrow." With that, she practically dragged her husband the remaining length into the shade of the oak, which blocked the stringent beams of sunlight from the pair. Edouard went and sat by the tree, leaning up against it and setting the briefcase gently beside him. He closed his eyes with a sigh, letting the smells of the clean air and earth relax him. Remus scrambled around on the lower branches, sending off some bark when he moved.

"Remmy!" Evelyn called as she opened the basket and produced the sandwiches and the lemonade she'd put a spell on so that it wouldn't spill. Remus slid down out of the tree. He came down on the side opposite his parents, landing in a patch of lilacs, which gave off a sweet smell when he fell into them. He plucked a couple flowers from the earth and brought them, roots and all, to his mother.

"For me?" Evelyn took the flowers when Remus held them out to her. "What a sweet boy you are."

"I'll take note," Edouard replied teasingly from where he sat, propped against the tree. "What type of flower?"  
"Lilacs, very lovely ones." Evelyn handed Remus a sandwich and tapped his glass of lemonade with her wand so he could drink it. She put the lilacs on the basket as she went over to sit beside her husband. She poked Edouard, and he opened his eyes once again to eat his sandwich and sip his drink. Evelyn gave his hand a squeeze, which caused him to smile softly at his wife when he met her sparkling eyes the color of a warm, gray dawn in the summer. The day gradually wore on, although time seemed not to move lost in that field during the hazy summer day.


	2. Reasons

Bad Reasons

He was running down the hallways, except the images skewed themselves to become something more horrible. They were carrying the people past in stretchers, but they weren't strangers anymore. As he ran, he realized he knew almost every face they carried past. The young people weren't just poor spectators anymore, but many of the students he'd taught.

Remus shoved the door open, but instead of a hospital room, he was standing in the long hallway of Greger Asketorp. He ran down the hallway, trying to find the hospital room, and his footsteps rapped loudly on the floor until they drowned out all other sounds. _Thud! Thud! Thud!_

_Thud! Thud! Thud!_

Remus opened his eyes, wiping the sweat off his brow. '_A dream_,' Remus realized as he noticed he was shaking. However, the thudding was still there, but he realized that it was only a knocking on his door. Remus scowled at himself for the fear the dream had aroused in him. He slowly stood up, stilled his shaking hands, and walked towards the door.

_'Bjorn is back_,' Remus calmed himself as he opened the door. On the other side stood the lean youth, looking as clean and perky as before. He gave Remus his dazzling smile, which drew Remus away from the nightmare.

"Remus!" Bjorn exclaimed as he beckoned Remus to come with him. "The Muggles have left for a couple hours, and you can have the place to yourself. Well, with the exception that I'll be there."

"Splendid," Remus replied unenthusiastically. Only now did he realize that he'd have to go and look at things he'd rather not see. '_Muggles_?' Remus wondered as he mused over what Bjorn had told him. '_He stayed with Muggles?'_

Bjorn led Remus back down into the lobby. Mrs. Olfssondotter was no where to be seen. Bjorn opened the door, which let another gust of frigid wind tear into Remus's body. Remus reluctantly stepped out into the freezing weather, and he noted that it had gotten darker since he'd last been outside.

"It's not far," Bjorn called over the wind. Remus bent his head down and followed the young man along the streets. Remus couldn't tell where the house actually was, and he didn't bother counting if it took three blocks or thirty to get there. With the icy wind tearing through the pair, it seemed it took an eternity for them to reach it.

Remus slammed into Bjorn's back and halted. "Sorry!" Remus's apology was lost in the wind, but Bjorn didn't seem to notice. He motioned Remus to follow him up a pair of stone steps. The steps were uneven, and gloomy honey mustard color curtains hung across the grimy windows. Even the bricks the house appeared as if even the rain hadn't cleaned them in a decade. Overall, the place looked miserable, and Remus was stunned to see how impoverished and neglected the building appeared.

'_I didn't expect this_,' Remus realized as Bjorn opened the weather beaten door with chipping gray paint. Bjorn ushered Remus into the interior first, where a wave of musty smell struck his nose. Remus blinked to adjust to the gloom, and he tried to adjust to the damp smell that he could even taste. He tried in vain to keep out the damp chill, which seemed to settle in his bones the moment he walked into the room. He could hear the wind still gusting outside as it swept across the landscape. Remus pulled his robes closer to keep out the dampness. He looked for a fireplace, which was a common fixture in a wizard house, and to his shock, he didn't find one.

Remus walked over to a threadbare plaid chair, noticing that there was a stack of Muggle papers sitting beside it. He fingered the gray pages with their still pictures. His head rose and looked up to see that in the kitchen, beyond the sitting room, there were Muggle appliances, too.

"You may want to go to the bedroom." Remus turned around and remembered that Bjorn was there, too. Bjorn produced a rusty key and handed it to Remus. "I think that's where most of the wizarding possessions are, but I haven't been there yet. The Muggles just got his body from the room, although one of our agents came shortly after and locked the door after suspecting there were magical items in that room."

"You mentioned you cleared out Muggles." Remus met Bjorn's sapphire eyes, which had lost their carefree sparkle in the oppressing aura of the miserable house.

"He registered as a wizard, but I think that's the only contact with the wizarding world he ever had while here." Bjorn's answered frankly as he gestured around the depressing abode. "The Muggles, specifically the Roman Catholic Church, are going to bury him tomorrow. It seems he was involved with a small group of them while here."

"He cut himself off from the wizarding world," Remus muttered to himself. He gazed around, hardly believing the truth himself. '_He left it all behind_,' Remus thought, and he felt an unexpected twinge of anger.

"Where's the bedroom?" Remus asked as he gazed pensively at his feet. Bjorn went into the kitchen, which had a washing machine, too. Remus looked followed and looked at the electrical outlets and the appliances he'd read about in Muggle studies. A feeling of abandonment began to rise in his gut, even though he tried to suppress it.

_'What should I have expected?_' Remus thought with a growing feeling of disdain as Bjorn led him to a door, almost completely hidden behind the refrigerator. Bjorn stood beside it, waiting for Remus to open the door with its chipping gray paint. Remus shoved the key below the brass handle and giggled it until the he could feel the tumblers move. He gripped the worn handle and turned it slowly. Another assault of moldy air attacked his nose and made him gag for a second. Remus rubbed his eyes as he tried to adjust to this room, too. The gloom that ruled the house with an iron grip seemed to be the mightiest in this bedroom.

The room had one window behind the twin bed that was made with a quilt, which appeared to be the newest thing in the entire house. Remus decided not to look at the bed, remembering that Bjorn had said they retrieved the body from it. Instead, he focused on the dusty, tiny nightstand with a couple candles sitting upon it. Many of them had burnt completely, but there was still one that hadn't been completely used.

Remus reached down and picked up the Muggle Bible below the nightstand. The yellowing pages had yellowed and many of them were earmarked from frequent reading. Remus placed it back down on the floor and opened the door in the side of the little nightstand. The murky inside hid everything inside the nightstand in darkness, and Remus stuck his hand in to retrieve what lay in the shadows. Immediately, his fingers curled around a thin, hard stick. He pulled out the ten-inch wand, which was covered in dust and had dull wood form not being polished or used in decades.

"Here." Remus thrust the wand at Bjorn as he continued to rummage through the nightstand. Inside, he found the registration as a wizard of Sweden, a copy of _The Prophet_ from March 15, 1979, and some spare galleons, sickles, and knuts. Remus took them out and handed the contents to Bjorn.

"I don't know if we're supposed to take the wand," Bjorn replied awkwardly. "It's usually buried with the wizard when they die. Sometimes, the wand breaks when the wizard dies. This one didn't because it probably hadn't been used in such a long time."

"I don't want it." Remus's voice was frank and cold. He had no interest in the wand. "Break it yourselves."

Remus gazed around the room, which was otherwise bare, except for another door. Remus went over to it and turned the knob, which promptly opened into a closet large enough for just one person to walk into. Remus pulled a tiny string that hit him in the face when he opened the door.

A sickly glow from the Muggle light bulb filled the dingy closet. Remus gazed up at it for a couple seconds before looking around at the clothing, which was mostly covered in dust and worn so much that every garment had some patches in them. Remus felt his stomach turn, reminded slightly of his own wardrobe.

He noticed that, throughout the entire closet, there were closed boxes, which had the same layer of dust on them as the items in the nightstand. Remus flicked off the light and shut the door, deciding he didn't want to go through the boxes today. He had a rough idea of what might be in them, though.

Bjorn remained standing, clean, fresh, and completely out of place in the shabby room. Remus looked at him, still holding the wand and papers. Bjorn reached into one of his pockets and fished out a folded mess of parchment.

"About a year after he came, he drew up a will with one of our wizard notaries," Bjorn explained as he unfolded the papers. Remus felt the blood drain from his face for a couple moments. "I need to read this to you, Remus. You'll be able to collect what is yours after the funeral tomorrow."

"You can keep it all," Remus replied stiffly. A strange numbness had descended upon his limbs, and talking was all he could manage.

"I can't. I have to read it, and you have to collect it. Then, do what you want." Bjorn's voice held no cheery tones as he opened the papers. Remus felt his throat constrict slightly as Bjorn scanned the papers before he began to read.

"I, Edouard Jean Pierre Lupin, give my possessions and last wishes and requests as follows:

To St. Joseph's Catholic Church I bequeath my house, its furniture, appliances, and half of all my current Muggle money to help their ministries.

To Mrs. Lena K. Nystroem and her family I bequeath the quilts she gave me, and all my clothing, drapes, and the other half of all my Muggle money.

To my son, Remus J. Lupin, I bequeath my Bible, any wizarding money, my wand, and all wizarding items contained in my closet or house.

I, Edouard Jean Pierre Lupin also request to be buried in St. Joseph's Catholic Church Cemetery and have a proper Christian burial. These here end the final requests and wishes of Edouard Jean Pierre Lupin."

A dizzying silence descended over the room as Bjorn finished reading. He took the papers and stuffed them back in the deep pockets of his suit. Remus stared past the wall as Bjorn fidgeted in the center of the dreary bedroom. Bjorn finally coughed loudly, which ended Remus's trance.

"Is that all?" Remus asked Bjorn in a stiff voice which was as frigid as steel.

"Yes." With Bjorn's answer, Remus began to stride out of the room. Bjorn held out the wand and small bag of money to Remus.

"Keep it," was all Remus said as he left the room.

On another summer day, stringent sunlight struck the cobblestones as Evelyn Lupin led her young son down the street. The heat hadn't really lessened the next day after their picnic as Evelyn took her son to run errands in the sweltering heat that pervaded Diagon Alley.

Evelyn was hauling several books under her one arm while she carried a couple bags filled with various items. She'd needed several plants and herbs, along with a new pair of robes and some ink. However, a trip to Diagon Alley was never complete without a trip to Flourish and Blott's.

"Mum," Remus whined again as he tugged at the yellow patterned flower dress his mother wore. Little cream and peach flowers decorated the soft, sunshine yellow dress Evey chose today. She hummed to herself as she let a grin slide across her cheerful face.

"Mummy is hungry, too," Evelyn reminded Remus, knowing her little son last ate early in the morning. Evelyn led Remus to a table under a striped umbrella outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor. Evey set her packages down, and then told Remus, "Watch these while I get us a treat."

She left the boy there, swinging his legs over the edge of the wooden chair. Evey came back several moments later with several ice cream sundays. One sunday was covered with caramel, and the other was overflowing with raspberries. As Evey walked back to the table with Remus, she didn't notice a tall, dignified man with flowing, platinum blond hair coming towards her. When Evey turned her head and saw the man, it was too late. They collided, and the caramel sunday sloshed across his velvet, crimson cape and fine, black suit.

"I am so sorry, sir!" Evey exclaimed as she pulled out her wand and muttered "_Tergeo_." Despite that the splashes of ice cream and caramel were being siphoned away from his clothes, the pale, flawless face of the man gleamed livid with anger.

However, Evenly didn't seem to notice as she continued to apologize. "I did not even see you! I was being so clumsy. Is there anything I can do?"

After these words, Evelyn let her large eyes meet the cold, icy blue eyes of the man that she'd just finished cleaning. "Who are you?" He asked her sharply as he stared down at her with a slightly upturned nose.

"Evelyn Lupin, and this is my son, Remus," Evelyn replied as she gestured to little Remus, who had been watching the scene unfold. With his child instincts, Remus had felt the man was bad because he was staring at his mother like a piece of unwanted furniture.

"Lupin did you say?" The man muttered, and a thoughtful look came over his face. His cold eyes then surveyed Remus. The boy bit his lower lip, unexpectedly afraid under the appraising stare. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Lupin. Five galleons should cover the cost of your carelessness."

"Let me get them." Evelyn went and sat the Sundays down in front of Remus as she dug to find her money. She counted out five galleons and handed them to the man. "I never properly caught your name," Evelyn mentioned as she gave the man her sunny smile.

"Abraxas Malfoy," the man replied icily as he pocketed the money. He scanned Remus again, and a slight grin slid over his face. "You must be a bit provincial, since you've never heard of me."

With those words of scorn, Abraxas Malfoy strode on his way to the Leaky Cauldron, leaving Evelyn alone with Remus. The boy felt better now that the man began walking away, but he stared at the caramel Sunday in disappointment.

"You can have this one," Evelyn said as she gave Remus the raspberry Sunday and took the ruined one for herself.

"Why did you pay him after you helped him?" Remus asked as he looked across the table at his mother.

"I was being polite. He seemed slightly put off even before I ran into him," Evelyn remarked as she remembered the moment before they'd collided. The man had been brooding before she sloshed caramel on him, so Evelyn only thought she'd worsened his day.

"He didn't like you," Remus pointed out before he began to eat his Sunday.

"Not everyone does, Remmy," Evelyn replied with a shrug. "Your father's parents didn't like me a lot because they said I was still too attached to my Muggle heritage. They came from this pureblood family in France and left during the Muggle war. I guess they thought it was below their son to marry a Muggle born English girl."

"That's not a good reason to not like you," Remus commented with the simplicity of a child. Evey laughed at her young son's innocence as she met his sable eyes.

"It's not a good reason, but people use bad reasons to make things right to them," Evelyn explained. "But I want to finish my ice cream now, Remmy, and we need to get home."

The conversation was settled for the time being as the two continued to eat their ice cream that had already half melted in the midday heat. When all Evey had left was a pile of caramel and vanilla soup, she threw away her container and waited for Remus to finish. When they were both done, the pair headed back towards the Leaky Cauldron and away from Diagon Alley.

"Hello," Evey gave the bartender a cheery smile as she led Remus over to the fireplace. After a throw of Floo Powder, Evey led Remus through the flames and into the serene sitting room of their own house.

The log cabin in which the Lupins lived was surrounded by pines and perched on the edge of quite Sherwood Forest. The area was very removed, and the modest sized two-floor house was nestled safely in the undisturbed wood and only a short walk from a lake. The living room was connected to kitchen and dining room, and all the rooms had the same oak floors. The living room had two windows, which had been left open to let the fresh smell of the pine forest enter the house. The couch, love seat, and plush armchair were the color of the evergreen pines that grew outside. The sitting had a vase of fresh lilacs and baby's breath sitting on a coffee table, while a portrait of wildflowers swayed in the imaginary breeze.

Evey sat the packages down and slid off her low healed shoes. She walked over to the coffee table, sat down in the loveseat, and waited for Remus to come bounding over to her. When she sat in the loveseat, Remus always knew his mother was going to read something to him. She reached across the coffee table and picked up _Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes, and Other Poems_ by John Keats.

"Let's read before your father gets home." She knew that her interest in Muggle clothing and literature displeased her in-laws, and occasionally Edouard had commented about her unusual tastes. However, Evey let it slid from her mind as she opened to one of the poems.

"Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!" Evelyn began to read to Remus in her clear voice. Remus leaned upon his mother's shoulder and relaxed, glad to listen to her voice. Ever since he could remember, she would read all sorts of things to him. She would read stories about heroes and books about nature. Yet, both their favorites were always the poems she would read so eloquently.

"Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love's eye!" Remus leaned his head against his mother's arm and listened as she read to him the rest of the stanza. The thoughts of the man with icy eyes faded from his mind as he listened to his mother's voice.

"With every morn their love grew tenderer. With every eve deeper and tenderer still; he might not in house, field, or garden stir, but her full shape would all his seeing fill." Evelyn's melodic voice echoed throughout the house as she continued to read the poetry.

Her tone rose and fell with emotion as she read the verses. Remus felt his eyes grow heavy as he leaned against her and simply listened to her voice. This poem was long, but Remus was old enough to grasp the meaning of the poem. However, the part that Evelyn began to read still bothered him.

"These brethren having found by many signs

What love Lorenzo for their sister had,

And how she lov'd him too, each unconfines

His bitter thoughts to other, well nigh mad

That he, the servant of their trade designs,

Should in their sister's love be blithe and glad,

When 'twas their plan to coax her by degrees

To some high noble and his olive-trees."

"Mum," Remus muttered. Evelyn stopped reading and looked down at her sleepy son. "I still don't think that her brothers were right. What did Lorenzo do wrong?"

"Nothing," Evelyn replied gently. She ran her ivory fingers through Remus's sandy hair. "They were just using bad reasons to justify themselves, Remus. People have always done it."

"I don't ever want to use a bad reason like those men," Remus mumbled into his mum's arm. A tender smile crept across Evey's full lips as she pulled her little son towards her body.

At that moment, Evelyn paused and looked away from Remus because there was a green sparkle in the flames. A moment later, a frazzled Edouard Lupin stepped into the room. He had his briefcase with him, and his eyes darted anxiously around. When he saw his wife and son together, though, the lines on his face relaxed for a second.

"You look stressed," Evelyn commented as she gestured to the couch. "Come sit with us."

"Evey, I can't do that right now. There's a problem, and I've found out someone on the inside of the Ministry is embezzling funds. They've managed to get pull them out of the funds for auror pay and training. They're putting them some where else, and I've got the list narrowed to less than a dozen people who could do this." Edouard burst and rambled to his wife the information that he'd kept inside all day as he sifted through more papers.

"What are you going to do about it?" Evey asked as she put down her book. Edouard met her eyes, then looked away from a second.

"I'm going to go away from a couple weeks and figure this out. I'll write occasionally," Edouard told his wife. Evey frowned for a second as she thought about what her husband had said.

"Why?" Remus asked as he tried to understand what his father had said. His childhood mind didn't comprehend embezzlement and the implications it could have when someone inside the ministry was responsible.

"It's complicated," Edouard began hesitantly, not sure how to explain it all to his son. "People . . . might come and find me, and I need to work a lot."

Evey bit her lower lip as her brow furrowed in thought. "Yes, you probably should go, if there's danger."

"I think there could be," Edouard replied softly as he walked over and embraced his wife and then his son. "I'll be back as soon as possible. I'd prefer if you keep the fire out and don't leave the house."

"I'll put some charms around it tomorrow," Evey told Edouard. Then, she gave him her enormous, beaming smile as she said, "You'll fix it, Eddy. Just go, we'll be fine."

The pair had made their way silently back to the little room above the streets of Or. Night had descended on the little hamlet rather quickly, and Remus found himself once again on the deserted landing in front of door 223.

After the entire walk back to the frumpy, little hotel in silence, Bjorn finally spoke. "I'll be by early, say, eight, and the funeral is at nine."

Remus responded with a deft nod as he reached out and turned the knob. He heard Bjorn's footfalls growing dimmer as he headed away from him. Finally, Bjorn Asketorp disappeared down the stairs and left the abandoned wing behind.

Remus wearily walked into the dark sitting room and shut the door. The sound of the door shutting echoed throughout the deserted landing. He stood in the suffocating darkness for a second before pulling out his wand and muttering, "_Lumos_."

The silvery light flickered around the room and caught a pair of glowing eyes in the doorway to the bedroom. Remus jumped at the shock, and almost fell backwards over the chair. After he recovered himself, he gave the large dog sitting in the bedroom door his most disapproving look.

"What are you doing here?" Remus demanded. '_It's just Sirius_,' Remus thought and scolded himself as he realized he'd let Sirius frighten him like that. However, the dog didn't reply as he sat there with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

"I hope you realize there's Ministry personal with me," Remus lectured the dog. Being as Sirius just continued to sit in the doorway, Remus appeared to just be talking to himself. "If you use magic here, they could detect it. I hope you were clever enough not to apparate into the country. They would've detected you passing through the magical barrier around their country."

The dog twitched, and in moments, had changed into a lean, scraggly man Sirius was still about a head taller than Remus was, and the two appeared years older than they really were. Sirius had opted not to wear robes and dressed something like a homeless man, but that wasn't too far from the truth of his situation. The navy jacket that appeared to have been worn through a war covered a dull gray shirt underneath. His jeans with patched knees hung loosely on his slightly emaciated form, and he'd let his beard and hair grow.

'_He still looks haggard_,' Remus noted as he eyed his old friend up. Sirius stretched, yet his lips twitched at the edges with slight amusement.

"You really think I would apparate in?" he asked. Remus shrugged as he walked past Sirius into the bedroom. He was too exhausted for a shower tonight, and was glad to find that he could just fall into the bed.

Sirius walked around the frumpy sitting room for a few moments. "I got news that you slipped out of the country. I couldn't pass up the opportunity."

Remus paused in his process of throwing his robe and shirt on the floor. "Are you sure no one saw you?"

"I rode a boat, and it took bloody forever," Sirius grumbled. He plopped down on the threadbare chair and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "I stowed aboard as a dog, and it was a Muggle boat. I think I'm better off here for a while, anyway."

"They've found you?" Remus inquired sharply. He locked Sirius's eyes, trying to read if he was in real danger of being discovered.

"They've got a couple decent people in their little hunting party," Sirius commented. "There's this guy named Shacklebolt and my cousin's little daughter."

"Who?" Remus asked as he tried to imagine any other member of the Black family as an auror.

"Andy's girl," Sirius replied casually as he stood up. He hauled the other chair over and put the two chairs so that they were facing each other. He studied the space that he'd made with the two seats and gave a nod of approval.

"You'll just have to stay hidden while Bjorn is around," Remus told Sirius as he went back to undressing.

"I was going to go with you tomorrow." Remus shot a sharp glance at Sirius, who hastily added, "but as a dog."

"And Bjorn would ask how I got a dog," Remus retorted as he climbed into bed. '_He should've stayed in England,'_ Remus thought. _'But then again, that wouldn't be Sirius, hiding away some where.'_

"Tell him the room came with one," Sirius quipped. With that last word, he changed and leapt into the little space he'd created for himself. Remus shook his head, partly annoyed and grateful. He murmured, "_Nox_," and then slid into the bed to rid himself of the day's weariness.


	3. Between Father and Son

Between Father and Son

The last rays of the sunlight hung on the fringes of the lush leaves. The sun set the deep greens ablaze, but the rich hues in the leaves turned the colors of the beautiful sunset into a mockery. Instead of the vivid pinks that now streaked the horizon, the pine needles each looked like daggers with dried blood on them. The clouds that crept in were tinted a brilliant gold that even Midas would envy. However, as that brilliant hue became warped and changed a muddy brown when it touched each leaf of oak, maple, and birch.

Remus Lupin sat at the window, gazing out into the darkening forest under the canopy of trees. It had been two weeks since he'd been outdoors. He rested his head against the windowpane, wishing he could play in the forest he loved so dearly.

It had been two weeks since he'd seen his father. His mother scanned the two letters that his father had written, but she'd selected only parts of them to read out loud to him. Evey realized that, even though Edouard didn't say much, he was anxious. About what, she didn't quite understand herself, but she knew powerful people were involved with this scandal.

However, to Remus, this meant little. The young boy only realized that a magical barrier around their house kept him from being outdoors during the long summer days. Evey tried to keep him interested, but after the first week, the confinement put both of them in surly moods.

That was why, tonight, Evey decided she would do something special.

She walked from the kitchen, carrying the same over-laden picnic basket that she used several weeks ago. However, she wore her honey chestnut hair down in long tresses today because of the cooler evening. Also, she wore another one of her Victorian style dresses, but this one was a vivid rose pink. It rustled when she walked and was one of Evey's personal favorites. Her aunt had embroidered lilacs and roses into her skirt, and they were heavily clustered at the bottom. It was a beautiful work with long sleeves, yet, it was made of a sheer material that was wearable in the summer.

"Remmy," Evey called to her son. He gave her a bored stare as he turned from the window. Instantly, his eyes widened, and his face lit up as he saw the picnic basket she carried on her arm.

Evey laughed as she tucked her silky hair behind her ears. "Really?" Remus asked anxiously as he ran towards the door. Evey nodded, and joy flushed her features. She knew exactly how her son felt. Being cooped up in the house suited neither of them, and she drew her wand as she walked towards the door.

"We're going to go down by the lake," Evey announced as she disarmed the spells around the house. She rushed Remus outside, and put the girdle of spells back so no one could slip in, hide, and wait for them to return. Evey nodded her contentment, deciding the pair wouldn't be caught unaware while they enjoyed the summer evening.

Remus sprinted through the trees, dashing at full speed towards the lake. He wove between the trunks that towered like pillars of stone under the ceiling of leaves. "Don't go too far!" Evey shouted after Remus. Her son slowed up and waited for his mother patiently by one of the trees.

Evey and Remus reached the lake together during that summer night. The thick air carried that summer dampness and humidity even into the evening. Water skimmers darted across the surface of the teal lake. They left ripples that spread out as each of their little feet touched. The last rays of the run in the sky reflect across the surface of the water as misquotes buzzed over the placid surface. Bats swooped down from the sky in bursts of energy to catch the flitting insects for a meal.

Evey threw the checkered blanket across the thick swath of grass beside the rushes. Remus went up to the water and pitched a couple stones across the surface.

_Splash, splash, splash, plunk!_

They would skip and disturb the insects and then sink below the surface to be buried forever beneath the water and muck.

"Remmy," she called gently, and her voice pierced the quiet calm of the humid, summer evening. Remus obediently came to his mother, who offered him a sandwich. The two ate in silence as Remus shoved his food into his mouth, eager to go play by the lake again.

Evey finished her drink as Remus left the blanket and ran back towards the lake. Her warm smile crossed her full, strawberry lips as she gazed at her son skipping rocks.

_Splash, splash, splash, plunk!_

Remus lent down into the rushes and dove to scoop a toad up into his palms. He carefully held the animal as he made his way back over to Evey, whom remained on the blanket.

"Mum," Remus exclaimed as he held out his hands, which gently held the wart covered toad. Evey chuckled as she ran her index and middle finger along the toad's bumpy back.

"He probably wants to go back to the water," Evey told her son after they both had studied the little amphibian. Remus nodded gravely as he went and placed the toad back into the mud. Evey sighed and took a deep breath of the pine-scented air. She leaned back onto the blanket and propped her head up on her arms. She let her eyes flicker shut after staring at the underside of the trees, which gradually darkened the forest, and light was further drained from the sky.

As she dozed in that relaxing state between consciousness and sleep, Evey could hear Remus playing by the pond. She would hear a splash and a giggle occasionally, which comforted her heart. The sounds of her happy son echoed into her subconscious and relaxed her into a state of lethargy. Occasionally, she would hear a sound behind her in the woods, and those kept her from drifting too far into her dreams.

"Mum!" Remus exclaimed and interrupted Evey's rest. "Come and play!"

Evey rose from her blanket, feeling warm and rested, and met her young son by the lake. By now, all the light had drained from the east, but a gentle blue still lingered in the west of the sky. Over the treetops rose a silvery moon that was reflected in the darkening blue water. The lake took on the deeper shades of night that crept into the skies. Several stars winked from their reflections in the glassy water.

"You're messy," Evey lightly scolded her son. Remus obviously had run into the water because his pants were soaked up to his knees. He stained his blue T-shirt and gray pants with thick smears of mud where he'd fallen down. As Evey examined her son, she picked up a stone and skipped it across the lake.

_Splash, splash, splash, splash, plunk!_

It skipped four times before sinking with a plop below the surface.

"Good throw," Remus said as he threw a rock, which skipped only three times and sank.

_Splash, splash, splash, plunk!_

Evey reached up and grasped one of the little fireflies that blinked fluorescent green. She let it run across her hand while it illuminated her palm. She held it up for Remus to see, and the bug scuttled to the edge of her palm, spread its black wings, and flew away into the darkness. By now, the night had thoroughly descended upon the forest, and a swollen moon hung over the horizon.

"Look!" Remus shouted as he reached down and scooped up one of the fireflies into his hand. As he grasped it, the little insect's wing was caught in his hand. Remus looked down at it as it skidded across his palm, trying to fly with the maimed side of its body. As the insect leapt into the air, it faltered and fell into the water. The creature struggled pathetically for a moment before it sunk beneath the surface like the rocks.

"I . . ." Remus muttered as he watched the little animal's silent death. The crickets seemed to lament it as they chirped their evening song from the rushes. The swollen moon made no reply as it hung wordlessly in the sky like an elaborate wall decoration among the stars.

"I'll catch another one," Evey reassured her son as she stretched out her ivory arms to grasp another firefly. As she went to touch it, crackling and rustling in the dense forest behind her made her pause. She turned towards the woods, which was cloaked in a shroud of darkness under the trees. The forest, while stained with patches of sun and inviting during the daylight, seemed haunted in the darkness. The silver light of the full moon cut silver slivers through the dense canopy into the undergrowth.

Evey peered into the dark woods, trying to make out anything in the patches of light. She stared into the dense forest, trying to catch any movement because the sound had been loud. IT frightened her, and she remembered her husband's warning. "Remmy, let's go home," Evey muttered as she clutched her son's shoulder.

"Stay by the lake," Evey told her son as she knelt down and folded up the blanket. Evey looked up, after shoving her blanket into the basket, into the ebony vastness of the forest. Her eyes fell upon a patch of silver, but it rippled and moved. Evey then found the pair of glowing, yellow eyes that went with the wolf gazing hungrily back at her.

"Remus! Run!"

Evey's hand darted for her wand, but the creature leapt in a blur of gray fur. It struck her. Evey lay stunned after she collapsed under the weight of the creature. Its putrid breath invaded her nostrils, and she stared up into the slobbering mouth and glowing eyes. As it stood on her, its claws dug into her soft flesh.

"Ah!" Evey moaned in pain, screeching for help as she felt her death approaching. Then, the creature shifted its head in another direction and leapt off Evey as easily as it had attacked her. Something more succulent had caught the wolf's attention.

With blood gushing from several scratches, Evey rolled onto her side. She struggled to her feet and looked for the wolf. She saw it, bounding across the grass by the lake, heading once again for the forest. Yet, Remus had a head start and sprinted for his life ahead of the drooling creature with eyes like yellow pits of flame.

As Remus approached the tree line, he paused for a moment and looked back. Evey's heart stopped beating as she met her son's soft, sable eyes. He paused to find her. The creature easily made up the distance between himself and the child.

It lunged.

Evey watched as the monster bit into her son's arm. It dragged him down as blood poured from the wound, mingling with the monster's saliva. Evey knew what it was. She might have cried, but she drew her wand without thinking. She now dashed towards the monster that yanked her screaming child towards the lake again.

"_Petrificus Totalus_!" Evey hurtled herself forward to grab her son as the creature froze, but the spell would not work completely against it. She tugged her child towards her, but the teeth still held Remus's arm. He hollered in agony, which sliced open the calm night like a knife.

The child's screams also seemed to reawaken the fiery blood lust in the creature. He renewed his hold on the child's arm. Evey grunted, and her eyes met the creature's hungry eyes as she cast the spell so many times that the forest echoed with her cries.

She wrenched Remus free, but he moaned in agony and began to cry as Evey struggled away from the beast. The creature roused itself easily from the barrage of Evey's spells, and it focused once again on its escaping prey. Now, it's beastly anger flared against the woman, too, as it lunged towards the pair.

It leapt for her neck, but Evey moved. The creature's claws slashed at her, cutting her face and arms. She lay sprawled on the ground with Remus clutched in her arms. The beast hunched on top of the pair with a mouth full of Evey's honey locks. It tugged, and assumed it had bitten flesh. Evey jerked away, trying to escape.

The mother's scream now split the night, too, as the wolf yanked half of her hair free. Pieces of bloody scalp trailed it, but Evey managed to tug away from the monster. It stood, stunned, trying to comprehend what it had bitten.

Evey dashed towards the forest as blood began to drip onto her left eyelid. It soon slid into her eye, obscuring part of her vision. As the monster saw its quarry escaping, it let out a howl that almost stopped Evey from dashing away. The sound curdled her blood, but she kept racing towards the tree line. It lunged again with the speed that only a predator can master.

"_Confundo_! _Confundo_!" Evey struck the creature with one hand as she held Remus with the other. The creature pinned them to the ground, but Evey kept throwing charms at it. The creature soon didn't have enough sense to do further harm, but it clawed into Evey's dress. The sharp talons dug into her soft skin and into Remus, whom Evey tried desperately to shield with her own body.

"_Impedimenta_!" It was a last effort, and the dazed wolf flew off the pair. Evey, unable to see in one eye, managed to stand.

"_Impedimenta_!" The creature hurtled towards the edge of the lake. Determination, greater than the yellow hunger in the wolf's eyes, gleamed forth like a star spending its last energy in Evey's eyes. She stared into the horrid animal's face as she shrieked, "_Impedimenta_!"

The spell, made with the greatest of efforts, flung the animal into the middle of the lake. The water seemed to quench the beast's anger as it yelped and began to paddle toward the opposite shore.

With all her energy spent, Evey cradled Remus and stumbled into the foreboding forest. The trees loomed like tall giants swaying in a great wind. The earth moved with ruptures under her feet as she searched for her home. The patches of moonlight illuminated everything they touched like a glaring spotlight. She would pass into the unbearable light, and then, into utter darkness for a few more moments. Spots of color exploded in front of her good eye.

When she reached the house, she wasn't aware she was still stumbling onwards. She didn't have enough strength to disarm the magical barrier she put up earlier. Remus moaned as Evey groped for her doorknob. They collided with the barrier and sailed backwards.

Evey hit the tree, which finished her valiant stand. She collapsed across the ground with Remus still clutched in her arms. As she gazed up with one good eye, the image of the full moon filled her mind.

The clouds descended during the night and now created a low ceiling over the world. Their gray presence pressed down on the earth, threatening to suffocate anything living there. During the dreary night, it drizzled lightly on the dormant earth. This meager attempt on the part of the rain to revive the land fell far short of its goal; the earth remained unshakably in the grip of winter in the little hamlet of Or.

After the little sprinkling from those oppressive clouds, the little mist that did come to earth froze instantly in the climate. People watched their feet solemnly as they trekked through the mud to the open gravesite. Each blade of grass remained encased in a coat of frost that broke as people made their way through the cemetery.

Only a handful of souls made the journey to St. Joseph's Cemetery on that day. The biting sting the wind possessed the day before evolved into one constant, frigid temperature. Many of the people that stood close to the grave wrapped themselves in long, woolen trench coats. The priest, however, wore only sober black robe that touched the frozen earth. Standing at the back of the crowd, and trying to be ignored, stood two figures. Behind a near by headstone crouched a jet-black dog.

Bjorn donned a flowing, black robe for the occasion. He wore his ebony, velvet Bowler hat, which did little to keep out the chill that followed the bitter winds. Remus wore the same tattered, gray robes. The miserably thin pieces of clothing did little to stop the biting air from attacking Remus's very bones.

"In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit," the priest began to chant the last words of the ceremony. Remus stuffed his hands into the narrow pockets of his robes, trying to find some warmth. '_This is almost over_,' he reassured himself.

"We commend this body to the earth until the Day of Judgement," the priest's words echoed across the silent cemetery. Everyone there attended the pathetic little service, where the priest struggled to scrap together a message even ten minutes long on Edouard Lupin. '_They knew so little about him_,' Remus had thought as he fixed a stony stare on the balding priest at the gravesite.

"We are ashes and to ashes we return," the priest solemnly proclaimed as he bowed his head. Several men dressed in black suits came forwards and lowered the coffin into the hole that led six feet into the frozen ground.

No one wept; the wind hushed as if to accent the silence. No birds sang as the clutches of winter gripped the earth. '_He got his wish to be forgotten_,' Remus mused as he watched the Muggles leave the side of the grave. They passed by the two wizards without a glance as they eagerly sought the warmth of cars and houses.

Despite everything, Remus remained transfixed to the spot. The hole in the ground entranced him. Maybe the cold seeped into his bones and paralyzed him to stare until a single memory resurfaced. '_They died that day,_' Remus realized as he gazed at images the flickered through from the past.

The boy woke up.

The white room, which spelled of pungent potions, confused him.

The voices that floated from some where beyond his field of vision were unfamiliar.

"A little more. Make sure the skin is healing. Cut the rest of the hair."

"Treat those scratches. They might have some infection in them. No bites?" Another voice floated up and joined the first. Remus gradually began to recognize each of the male voices.

"None," the first man replied. Remus lay and stared up at the white tiles. Clouds enveloped his mind, and he only listened to the two men. It was so hard to think.

"Amazing. The boy was horribly wounded." At that comment, Remus frowned and looked down at himself. A white bandaged covered his arm, and when he moved it, he felt a terrible stab of pain.

The stinging, horrible pain revived a vivid image of flashing white teeth. Remus moaned, and a white curtain beside him swooshed away to reveal a tall man in white robes.

"Lay down." It was the voice of the first man. He went over to Remus and tried to ease him back onto the pillow. "The boy might need more of that pain killer. I hope you made a strong batch."

"I'll get his father," the second man replied as he strode out of the room. As the first man tried to soothe Remus, the boy's eyes strayed to the other side of the curtain. On the other side of the linen barrier stood another bed. A figure, the entire head wrapped in bandages, lay motionless.

When he saw her face, he knew.

"Mum!" Remus shrieked, forgetting the pain in his arm. He ignored the man in robes and dodged him. He scampered across the room in a little white night gown towards the prostate form of Evelyn Lupin.

"You need to lay down!" The healer had shouted at Remus; Remus ignored the irritated voice of that man. He gazed only at the ashen face before him. Gouges lined the one side of her face, and her golden locks lay scattered on the floor. Sterile, white bandages encased the area where those honey locks used to grow.

"Mum," Remus whimpered as he tugged Evelyn's hand. Her arms remained shrouded in bandages. Instead of a fair dress, she wore a simple, white dressing gown.

Tears began to seep into Remus's eyes. He didn't remember much, but as he saw his mother, he understood. He knew she suffered. In his heart, Remus knew part of her died. The full lips withered like a wilted flower. The inner sunlight she possessed seemed completely faded from her figure that had the look of a corpse about it. Yet, her chest rose slowly, and Remus knew she lived as he saw the sheets move with her slow breathing.

"Remus."

The raspy voice sounded foreign to the boy for a moment. He turned, eyes already swelling with tears, and looked up into the haggard face of his father.

"He needs to rest," one of the men insisted. Edouard shook his head grimly.

"I need to talk to my son. Leave." Edouard's words left nothing to be discussed. The two men stared at each other helplessly before leaving the room.

"Mum?" Remus asked as he looked up into the care worn face of his father. His father's gentle eyes stared back at him red and blood shot. The hair on his head appeared to have grown grayer and thinner since Remus saw him two weeks ago. The age and cares of a man a decade his senior now etched themselves into Edouard's face.

"What . . ."

Remus's question died on his lips. The pair of sable eyes met. No amusement or gentle caring lingered in his father's eyes. Weariness consumed them, but behind that weariness, another emotion Remus never experienced before surfaced. It was from his own father that Remus saw that look of disgust. That look of weary loathing etched itself into the young boy's mind.

Edouard then looked up at Evelyn. That same look remained in his eyes as he stared down at his battered wife. "Remus, what did you do?"

"I-I don't remember," Remus whimpered. Tears streamed down his face, etching little rivulets on his cheeks. As more tears flowed, the tracks they followed became creeks and then rivers.

"She won't be okay," Edouard muttered. If Remus had looked, he would have seen several tears cascade down the lined face of his beaten father. Edouard then took a set of papers from his pocket. He drew his wand and lit them on fire, and they slowly disintegrated to ashes. After gazing quietly at his wife, Edouard whipped his eyes and addressed his sobbing son.

"You're not going to be okay, either," his father told him frankly. He stood behind his son as they both gazed at the prostate form of the unconscious Evelyn. "Be strong. For her."

"I-I can't," Remus blubbered as he gazed down at the strangely almost lifeless form on the white sheets. He knew, in the deepest part of his gut, that she would never laugh the same or smile like the summer sun again.

In the deepest part of his childish heart, Remus realized that his father labeled him 'bad.' It would be a while before he loathed how his father thought of him as a burden. It would be years before the biting accusations and falling out between the two. It would be decades before Remus carried the cold feelings begun that day around with him.

Between the two, at that moment, a rift opened. An understanding occurred between the silent father and his wounded son. Both knew that innocence ended that day. They both realized, on different levels, that that prostate form signified the end of the close bond they once had.

Edouard held the blame, and placed it on his son, too.


	4. Letters

Letters

The door to room 223 banged open to the dingy apartment. The curtains hung in front of the windows to block the light. They day passed with hardly a scene changed in the room as twilight came.

From the deserted hallway, Bjorn hauled in several boxes whose bottoms buckled. Behind him, Remus carried the remainder of the boxes. Bjorn carried them into the middle of the room and dropped them with a resounding _thunk_. Remus came in and cast the other boxes beside the first group. Like a clouds, dust rose up from where the boxes had been set.

Bjorn brushed the dust the boxes had deposited on his robes away with a flourish. Remus didn't even both with his gray, tattered clothes. Bjorn gazed thoughtfully down at the pathetic cubes. He inspected the decrepit cardboard, trying to discern what was so loathsome about these boxes. "You can take them," Remus commented as Bjorn continued to stare pensively.

"I don't even know what's in them." Bjorn raised his eyes to meet Remus's own sable eyes. "Well, it's been a pleasure, Mr. Lupin, but you leave tomorrow, and I'm going to party tonight."

Bjorn extended his hand and grasped Remus's hand firmly. The gleaming smile that the funeral and will reading banished from Bjorn's face returned. Remus reciprocated the feelings of good will as Bjorn turned towards the door.

"Sure you don't want to come drinking?" Bjorn asked Remus with a slight grin. Remus shook his head as Bjorn stepped into the hallway.

"I'll recommend you to your grandfather." Bjorn chuckled as he turned away_. 'It won't do much good coming from me, though,_' Remus thought bitterly as he watched the youth stride down the hallway. Eventually, Remus shut the door and retreated into the apartment. A light flickered from the bedroom after the other man's footsteps faded completely. Remus strolled into the bedroom where Sirius hid at the end of the bed.

"I might go drinking," Sirius commented as he leaned over the piece of paper he had been writing on before Bjorn came. "What's the party?"  
"It's not a party. If you can believe it, they're celebrating the coming of spring," Remus chuckled at that irony again as he walked over to Sirius. "Bjorn has talked St. Walpurgis Night up to me since I came."

"You never did drink, except at James's bachelor party," Sirius snickered as he continued to scratch on the parchment. '_He's right_,' Remus thought as he grinned at that memory. '_Well, there wasn't much to remember.'_

The room quieted as Remus peered down at Sirius's letter. It spanned over two pages, now. Certain sentences got completely scratched away, and Sirius's handwriting still possessed that uneven, scrolling script Remus remembered from their school days. "You shouldn't write that." His voice took a serious tone. "You know it could get intercepted."

"That's why it's getting hand delivered," Sirius replied as he signed his name and folded the paper before Remus could see what he wrote. Sirius fidgeted with the paper for a couple moments before he asked, "Would you take it?"

"It's a bad idea, even if I took it." Sirius frowned and folded the paper in half again. He then unfolded it and looked down at the parchment. '_He should've have even written that_,' Remus scolded his friend silently, knowing he knew the risks already. It was pointless to reprimand him.

"It's to Andy," Sirius finally coughed out the recipient's name. Remus arched and eyebrow as he met Sirius's pleading gaze. "I can't take it! Her daughter's one of those aurors that's been tracking me, mate. I don't wan to take that chance, yet. She needs to know."

After several moments of terse silence, Remus condescended. "Fine. I'll take it when I go."

"Perfect," Sirius exclaimed as he leapt off the bed and stuffed the letter into Remus's hands. With a bound filled with relief, Sirius exited the bedroom and went to the window.

'_I shouldn't take this_,' Remus thought as he turned the letter over in his hands. The paper remained unmarked, so it couldn't be identified as anything unusual_. 'I could get it through when I leave Sweden,'_ Remus realized as he glanced back at the boxes, knowing he could just hide this letter among their contents.

Sirius drew back the curtains and examined the streets. "What are those logs for?"

Instead of being desolate, the streets of Or buzzed with activity. People walked and laughed in the chill air as they trudged along the sidewalks. Some people hauled logs to clearings where benches already sat. Activity now sprung up in the apparently lifeless town.

"Bjorn said they light a lot of fires," Remus replied as he watched the first real activity he'd seen in this village since he came. "In this weather, you'd need a fire."

"I'm going," Sirius declared as he bounded towards the door. "Just keep it cracked open."

Without another word, Sirius disappeared down the hall. Remus watched the door, but couldn't find the strength to worry about Sirius. '_He's gotten in and out without me before_,' Remus thought as he sat down in one of the chairs. The chair offered no particular comfort because of its over-used cushions.

In his mind, an urge began to develop. The quite room filled with a silent whispering. '_Open me_,' the boxes seemed to tease, urging him to look at their contents. '_You want to see us again,_' they seemed to taunt as they remained still by Remus's feet. He gazed at them, realizing that, sooner or later, he would need to open them to put the letter into them.

They couldn't be ignored forever.

He'd fallen asleep behind the couch, where he'd sat to read that afternoon.

Seasons changed, spinning in dizzying circles through four more years. Months came, and they went, and the summer sun and heat washed back over the little log cabin again. This year, no child played in the branches or skipped stones by the lake. No cheery woman took walks through the forest and recited poetry during a languid, summer day. Occasionally at night, howls pierced the otherwise peaceful woods.

"You can't write that."

His father's sharp words brought Remus to consciousness. He stirred, and the book he had been reading that now rested on his chest threatened to fall and give away his hiding place. He stopped the book from sliding to the floor. He froze, about to move again, when he heard his mother's weak voice.

"I will write whatever I choose. If you don't, I will."

Every time he heard her speak, her voice always sounded about to break like fine China. It scared him, these past years, to hear her sometimes. He remembered how she cried the first time she couldn't perform a simple cleaning spell when she got back from the hospital. Remus remained hidden, and for all his troubles, he'd become wise. He learned how to eavesdrop because no one told him anything outright any more.

"You know it won't work," Edouard pleaded in frustration. "You can't subject him to that!"

In the silence, Remus heard the scratching of a quill. "Edouard, what is worse than this? I will not have my son stuck in this house for the rest of his life." He heard a thud on the table.

"He's safe here!"

"He's not happy," Evey spat. That silenced his father, and once again, Remus heard the scratching of a quill.

"Think about the other children." His father's voice took on a new tone of desperation. "You can't even deal with him, but exposing him to other people's children?"  
"Edouard, it's you who can't deal with this," Evelyn hissed as the scratching of the quill continued underneath the argument. "He's my son. There's a new head master."

"Dumbledore? He's a smart man. He'll never go for it. Don't trouble him."

"I Am Going To Try," Evelyn said as she accented every word she spoke. Then, his father gave a great shout of rage.

"You're foolish!"

"Am I? At least I love my son. You . . . you've resigned him to this!" Remus clutched his book as his mother shouted. "Leave me alone. I'm sending this."

With slow footsteps, Evey climbed the stairs to her bedroom. Remus remained hunkered behind the couch, keenly aware of his parent's feelings. He'd hear this particular argument before, but never as tense as tonight. His mother actually wrote the letter that they both quarreled about for at least a month.

He could hear his father writing now. He peered up over the edge of the couch to watch him scribble away at the little desk. He had his head propped up on one of his hands as he wrote with the other. Remus slipped from his hiding space and darted up the stairs to be with his mother. Avoiding the creaking step, he made it to the hallway and entered the room where light poured from under the doorway.

"Mum."

She sat on her bed, but a warm breeze blew through the open window. She attached her piece of parchment to the leg of the owl. She steadied herself and then rose gradually from the bed and set the bird on the windowsill. The owl gave one prolonged look at Remus before it flew away into the vast night.

She gingerly sat herself down on the bed and stared for a couple moments at her hands. Then, her tear filled eyes met his. "Remmy, my beautiful son."

"What did you write?" Remus gently asked his mother as he went over and sat beside her. He looked at her withered frame and sunken cheeks that retained a sallow color. Her tresses of sun touched hair never grew back. Now, streaks of mud seemed to stain the frizzy mop that encased her narrow face.

"I'm going to get you into school this fall." With these words, Evey's weary eyes lit with excitement and tears. "You will go."

Remus gazed down at his hands silently. His mother said this, but something inside Remus still doubted. His father told him his type weren't allowed in schools. He'd heard the arguments. He knew why now, but when he looked into his mother's worn face, he wanted to believe her.

"You should rest," Remus told her. He remembered how she often lay in bed for days, but she'd been doing better lately. '_She gathered all her strength to write that letter_,' Remus realized as he got off her bed. She crawled under the hand made quilt, which she'd embroidered lilacs on when she felt well enough. They only dotted the other edges because she hardly ever had the strength to get up some days.

"Read to me." Evey's voice held a desperate note, and the tradition had been reversed. Now, Remus would sit and read to his mother. Whenever she came back from the hospital with him the first time, she asked him. Since then, he would wait until she asked, and then, he would read whatever she wished.

"What?" Remus asked as he walked over to the stack of books in the corner of the room. He knelt down beside the stack, waiting for Evey to answer.

"Something I like," Evey replied meekly. Remus bit his lip as he pulled out the old volume of _Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes, And Other Poems_ that he hadn't read for years. He flipped the book over in his hands before he opened it. He skimmed through the pages as he sat at the end of his mother's bed.

"NO, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist

Wolfs-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;

Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd

By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine;

Make not your rosary of yew-berries,"

"You read so well," Evey interrupted as Remus finished the first several lines. "You'll do so well at school."

"How?"

The question plagued his mind. "Will I be a burden there like here?"

Evey leaned forward and reached for her son. Remus put the book down and came close to her. "You aren't my burden."

"Dad thinks I am," Remus spoke nothing but the truth. A deep sorrow welled up in Evey's eyes at these words. They both knew it as the truth.

"I will always love you," she whispered. Her clammy, bony hand clutched his with a desperation a renewed desperation. She leaned forward and gently kissed her son on the forehead with her thin, chapped lips. "You will have a normal life, Remmy. I will try my hardest to get that for you."

Remus turned away. He couldn't bear to see the tears well up in his mother's eyes. He stilled his own tears as he gazed down at the tome in his hands. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat as he stared out her mother's bedroom window into the starry sky. There was no moon out tonight.


	5. Dawn

Dawn

The thick clouds remained in the sky to veil the stars. Even though the chill wind abated, the clouds refused to leave and let any light through. No lights hung in the sky to guide anyone's way tonight. Instead, the earth grew its own lights. Outside, small red lights began to dot the landscape like brilliant red stars springing from the ground. These little fires seemed to be the earth's way of creating its own light and warmth that the sky denied it.

Darkness descended upon the sitting room that remained dark and frigid. Remus remained slouched in the armchair, falling out of consciousness from time to time. He finally awoke to some noise outside the window. A group of ambitious youths raced down the street, shouting to someone.

'_It got so late_,' Remus reflected as he shook himself into full consciousness for the first time in hours. Instead of long shadows creeping across the floor and walls, darkness held mastery over the entire room. Remus couldn't see anything, even with the minimal amount of light that came from the window.

"Damn!" Remus cursed as he stood up and stubbed his toe. He groped around, trying to discover what he hit. '_The boxes_,' Remus remembered instantly as a chill that had nothing to do with the weather came over him.

He subconsciously stuffed his hand into his pocket. '_It's still there_,' Remus realized as his finger felt the parchment. '_I need to stow it away_.'

With a flick, Remus's wand conjured a glittering light that cast a glow over the entire room. It highlighted those spots where darkness lurked and chased it away into corners. The silvery light played across the boxes at Remus's feet. It seemed to make the dust sparkle for an instant as the particles flickered in the silvery beam.

After hesitating for several moments, Remus knelt down on the filthy floor. With his free hand, he removed the lid from one of the boxes. Dust spilled off the lid and rose up like a mushroom cloud in Remus's face. He choked and waved his hand in the air to disperse it. When the grimy, gray cloud cleared, the box revealed its contents.

Books of many sizes and shapes lined the inside of the opened box. Some appeared well used, but others look barely read. They bore names many wizards would never recognize, and they all looked untouched in years.

Except one, which sat at the top of the pile.

'_Bjorn must have placed it in here_,' Remus realized as he stared directly at the enormous tome. '_I told him to keep it_,' Remus thought with a flicker of irritation. The page's frayed edges and earmarked pages indicated frequent use. Remus hesitated before running his fingers over the gold lettering on the front.

He drew it out carefully as curiosity conquered his careful avoidance of his father's possessions. '_He got into that religious stuff_,' Remus reflected as he turned the book over in his hands. He spread it open on the floor, and another puff of dust rose from the pages.

He remembered his father reading little compared to him and his mother. '_He never read anything by Muggles,_' Remus reflected as he pulled out some papers his father stuffed into the book.

He unfolded a couple of the sheets. They proved to be just some old sermon outlines that his father collected. His long, scrolling script covered the margins of the inserts. Light annotations and notes scribbled in the margins of the pages served as a testimony to Edouard Lupin's venture into faith.

'_He gave it up for this_,' Remus mused as he scanned the papers. He placed them back in as he perused each one of them. They said roughly the same thing about faith and God. With astonishment, Remus realized that they meant nothing to him. '_They weren't mine. I couldn't connect him to these papers_,' Remus thought as he tucked them, one by useless one, back into the page where he discovered them.

He pulled out a final piece of folded parchment. Remus opened the paper, which seemed to be less yellow and crisper than the other papers were. He scanned the first line, which, to his shock, bore his name.

The sparkling, white hallway rankled of a mix of cleaners and medication. It stretched onward, perfectly sterile, and dotted with doors; healers in flowing, white robes would silently bustle from door to door. Other than the trod of footsteps or the occasional voice when a door opened, the Sanguin-Levett Ward at St. Mungo's remained calm.

Remus strode down the hallway, anxiety flickering in his usually serene, sable eyes. '_The Sanguin-Levett Ward is for the seriously ill_,' Remus couldn't help but thinking for the hundredth time. The sound of his footfalls echoed in the nearly vacant hallways.

Outside, a clock struck three in the morning, but the sound didn't carry inside the building. Remus remained oblivious to anything as he scanned the doors for room 421. They took her there because she'd hurt herself while performing a simple spell. '_If she would have been healthy, she would have been fine_,' Remus brooded as he thought of his mother. '_He didn't take care of her_.'

Remus stopped, realizing he'd almost strode past the door. He grasped the handle under the black letters that were stenciled on the whitewashed door. Swallowing an unexpected lump, Remus turned the knob in his sweaty palm and entered.

It took him a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Compared to the hallway, lit like a stage, the hospital room only had two candles. The wax spilled silently over their sides onto their stands as they cast their wavering light on the face of Evelyn Lupin.

Yellow like century old paper, her face made him forget that he got shaken awake at two in the morning. Her sunken cheeks and emaciated frame purged the lethargy from his bones. She appeared little more than a puff of a dandelion about to be blown away by the wind. Then, he remembered to shut the door behind him.

'_She's so ill_,' Remus thought despairingly as he slowly trod over to the chair that sat beside the bed. _'I knew they said she had gone 'critical,' but this . . .'_

He went to sit, wondering if his own body would obey him. The chair held no warmth, but he focused solely on her. Nothing cheerful or young now remained in Evelyn's face. Age and wrinkles made the young mother appear decades older than her time. Remus sighed as he closed his eyes, trying to remember her taking his hand as they walked together through the forest, field, or street. He heard her voice come to him from a far away memory that was now barely a dream.

'_Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter_,' she spoke, and her singsong voice enchanted his thoughts.

'_Therefore, ye soft pipes, play on_.' Her voice spoke in his memory only now. He'd called upon that gentle, warm voice he remembered as a young boy. He called forth her words that she recited while he sat in the Shrieking Shack many a lonely night.

'_Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear'd_,' her voice whispered to him again from days in the sunlight. He heard her, still, echoing in his mind as she did when he lay in the hospital. When he had woke and felt like he'd just swam the English Channel, he heard her.

'_Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone_,' she whispered in his memory only. Yes, even now, days before he turned seventeen, he still felt a fierce love for her. He didn't need her to protect him now; she needed him, but he could do nothing. '_She's beyond my cure_,' Remus realized as his gut sank. He opened his eyes and gazed down at her again.

"Mum?"

Evey didn't stir, but remained in her corpse like slumber. Nothing changed or moved, and in his heart, Remus knew the truth.

'_She's going to die_.'

He pulled the brown coat, which he grabbed at the last moment before leaving Hogwarts, closer to his body. The coat couldn't protect him for the chill that had nothing to do with the climate of the room. He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat, threatening his already bleary eyes with tears. She hardly appeared to breathe. Her life seemed so frail that Remus didn't dare touch her.

He reached over and picked up one of the books that lay on her nightstand. '_At least he brought these_,' Remus thought with bitterness and relief. He opened the bound version of The Three Musketeers and began to read silently. A marker remained after the fifth chapter, where he stopped reading to his mother last summer before he went back to school.

"Sir?"

Remus jerked his head up and dropped the book. It landed with a dull thud on the floor, and he groped for it before looking up at the person who woke him. "I dozed off," Remus apologized as he sat upright again.

"That's quite alright." The young healer, her chestnut hair tied up in a bun, replied cordially as she walked over to the bed. "Did she wake for you?"

"No. Why isn't she healing?" Remus blurted out the question, unable to contain himself. The healer pulled out her wand from the deep pocket of her robe and began to probe Evey.

"I can't say, but she was very weak before her incident. We've had several cases like this, and I personally blame those damned dementors," the healer hissed in a moment of frustration. Remus bit his lower lip, trying not to imagine the creatures that began to roam the streets at the beginning of his seventh year.

"That didn't answer my question." Remus gazed at the Healer's backside as she bent over his mother. The young woman let out a deep sigh before responding to Remus again.

"I can't say why. Well, not exactly," she began hesitantly as she continued her work. "Well, she simply seems to not want to heal. I don't know if you'd understand, but to be magically healed, you have to want to live. Magic can't save anyone unless they find the strength of spirit to use it."

"She doesn't have to use it," Remus countered. "You perform it on her."

"Technically," the healer said as she stopped her examination. She turned around and faced Remus. Her eyes now looked tired and weary as she placed her wand away. "A wizard can abandon magic. Why a wizard won't accept magic any longer is a mysterious phenomenon that differs from person to person. As I read in her records, she was injured severely ten years ago along with her son. She almost died then, and has been in and out of the hospital ever since."

"She . . . wants to live?" Remus asked, unable to make a statement. He wanted to believe that his mother didn't want to die. He gazed back at her lifeless figure, feeling a pang of guilt strike at his heart.

"I can't answer that," the healer replied solemnly. She strode past Remus and went to exit the room. As she opened the door, she turned on her heals and told him, "I'm Dr. Cassie Bates, and if you need my help, holler."

Remus nodded deftly as the door slammed shut. The forlorn son gazed down at the parched lips of his mother. They appeared gray like ashes in a fireplace, but Remus wanted to hear them speak to him. '_She simply seems to not want to heal_.' The words now flooded into his mind in a gush of bitter reality.

Outside, the clocks struck ten o'clock in the morning. The sun rose up over the chilly March landscape, but none of that mattered in the dismal hospital room. Remus placed the book back on the nightstand as he reached down and took her frail hand. It weighed less than the book in his palm. He tried to desperately massage some warmth back into it, but it remained clammy like a damp towel. As he clasped her hand, Remus blinked some tears from his eyes.

'_Crying isn't going to make her well,_' Remus reprimanded himself as he wiped the tears away.

"Hmmm," Evey moaned. The hoarse sound caused Remus to subconsciously tighten his grip on her hands, hoping that, some how, he could wake her. Part of him wanted to plead with her to wake and yank her alive by the force of his own will. '_It would be useless_,' Remus thought as he gazed at the pitiable form on the bed before him.

"Please . . ." Evey mumbled in a barely audible, rattling voice. Remus leaned across the bed, straining to hear if she would say anything else. "Read. Read . . . to me."

Remus bent down over his mother's ear. "Mum, it's okay, I'm here." Evey moaned, but her eyes remained shut. Remus shook her shoulder gently, afraid he might break what life remained in her fragile frame.

"They promised . . ." Evey muttered as Remus unclasped her hands. He lunged towards the nightstand the fumbled through the books. He picked up the worn, hardbound book of poetry that sat towards the bottom of the pile.

"But when a melancholy fit shall fall sudden from heaven like a weeping cloud," Remus recited in a clear voice. It echoed through the gloomy room and suddenly seemed to make the shadows quail. Evey stirred, and her lips drew up in a wane smile.

'_She has to wake_,' Remus pleaded silently as he steadied himself to read the next line. "That fosters the droop-headed flowers all."

Evey's eyes fluttered for a moment; he drew a quick breath. "Mum," Remus called gently. '_Please, please, be okay_,' he silently pleaded as he held his breath. He heard his heart pound in his chest. _Bum da bum_. It thudded against his rid cage. _Bum da bum_. '_I need her to be okay.'_

_Bum da bum_.

"I want . . . to see him again," Evey whispered. She sucked in a raspy breath, and Remus felt the tears tinge his eyes again. He exhaled, trying to ignore what she said. '_She's delirious_,' he realized. He dragged the coarse jacket across his eyes as to stop the water works that threatened to overcome him.

"She dwells with Beauty—Beauty that must die." His words faltered, and he searched for his voice, but couldn't find it. He'd skipped a head to the next stanza; his own words pronounced her doom.

He dropped the book. It clattered onto the linoleum floor with a clunk. It lay, absolutely forgotten and worthless, as Remus reached out and took his mother's hand again. It seemed chill and icy now like raw fish from a river sucking their last breath. He clamped her frail hand tightly in his own.

Evey's eyes remained sealed, locking her mind safely away from the world. Her breathing became shallow, and she returned to that corpse like state. She didn't utter a word or open her eyes to fully recognize her now grown son. She seemed now a shell crusted over and devoid of any real life. Her body seemed ready to be thrust off so that what remained of her spirit could be free.

"We need more help! Clear more space!"

"She's going into convulsions!"

'_What_?' Remus pondered, aware of sounds outside of the room for the first time. He gazed down at his mother's limp hand and her lurid face. He leaned over and gave her pasty forehead a quick kiss.

He stood and ambled toward the door. The noise, once he stepped into the hallway, struck his ears like a jackhammer. He blinked, blinded by the bright lights. Healers ran past him with a stretcher, and Remus looked down to see a young witch bleeding badly. He gazed up and saw several other stretchers being carried down the hallway and into rooms.

He saw the victims, lying on the stretchers, while being rushed to rooms for treatment. Gashes and blood characterized many of the wounded. Horrid burns scarred the one man being carried down the hallway.

"Half the stadium will probably need treatment! Clear more space!"

"Excuse me," Remus asked in an almost bored, monotone voice. "What's happening?"

"Quidditch game between the English and French National teams got attacked by that dark wizard," one of the healers replied as he hauled a stretcher to another room. The burned figure on the stiff board moaned in agony as Remus kept pace with the healer.

Remus gazed blankly at the healer. "What?"

"They blew up part of the stadium!" The healer shouted to Remus as he rushed down the hallway. '_What_?' Remus asked himself again as the information refused to penetrate his brain. He gazed at another couple of people being toted down the hallway towards more rooms. He froze, unable to move, trying to comprehend another idea that smacked his mind like a ton of bricks.

'_They . . . from the papers . . ._" Remus tried to connect the pieces he'd read about these Death Eaters in the _Daily Prophet_ with what happened. The paper made light of the little band, which had only managed to pull off minor stunts so far. Now, the situation turned into an altogether extremely grave circumstance that no one would dare mock.

"Mr. Lupin. Mr. Lupin!"

Remus turned slowly as if in a fog. He could see stretcher upon stretcher being hauled down the hall. The shrieks of agony and moans of terrible pain flooded his ears as he tried to focus on Dr. Bates.

"Mr. Lupin, she died. We're going to need that room."

"Okay," Remus replied deftly as Dr. Bates rushed past him. No tears stained his eyes now. In the midst of such chaos, tears couldn't even express the immense suffering. '_They would do no good_,' Remus mused.

He gazed down the hall, looking at all the panic swarming around him. He seemed like an island stranded amid a swirling ocean. The teeming masses of healers and patients blurred together in his eyes. He gazed past them, and even the floor he stood on suddenly didn't feel very solid. The air he breathed lost its substance as the noise faded into a background din in his mind. He gazed down at his hands, realizing they seemed numb and not attached to his body.

It crept upon him as he sought for something to cling to, but found only chaos. His hands found nothing to grip as an anchor. '_I'm alone_,' Remus realized as the thought took full shape in his head. The clock struck eleven outside, but in the brilliantly lit hallways of the hospital, the world morphed into a bland, gray mass. Something beautiful passed away from the sphere of the world, and as he stood transfixed in the center of the bustling hallway, the loss stained Remus's heart.

The soft, cotton ball clouds drifted serenely over a sapphire blue sky. They let themselves be carried along by the gentle air currents above the surface of the earth. Nothing bothered them, so far removed from the realms of humanity. If these lovely images of peace were real instead of images on a domed ceiling, it would have pacified Remus Lupin's dreary heart.

The single box he shoved through the ashes of the fireplace now seemed to weigh more than a ton in his arms. He only took one of the dilapidated boxes and put the books that he truly wanted in it. _Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes, and Other Poems _got shifted out of the mess of books and placed in the single box that got chosen The Muggle Bible remained safely at the bottom with both letters inside. His name on that piece of paper remained all that he read of his father's letter. He shoved it with Sirius's letter and placed both in the bottom of the box. It plagued his mind, though, and even now, he could almost feel the letter's presence.

In his sweaty palm, he gripped his tattered suitcase. '_I just need to get this box through_,' Remus reminded himself. Outwardly, he appeared slightly disheveled and exhausted, but inwardly, his nerves began to plague him like a disease eating his intestines. The priceless value of the box's contents constantly reminded him that this was still a mission. '_Sirius's letter must go through.'_

Remus walked back the hallway to the office of Greger Asketorp. His solitary footfalls echoed with each click in the foreboding hallway. It seemed to suggest that he would go to his doom now, and he clutched his suitcase even tighter. '_The government always puts me on edge_,' Remus thought to calm himself down as he set the box on the floor. He reached for the bronze doorknocker on the door of Greger Asketorp's office. Remus banged it several times before the knob turned; the polished, oaken door swung slowly open.

The foreboding form of Asketorp stood on the other side, and he indicated Remus to enter. He picked up his precious box again and placed it behind the chair where Greger indicated him to sit. He gently sat his suitcase down beside him as Greger went over to his desk and fished for several papers. Remus sat stiffly in the same solitary chair in front of that vast, imposing desk. The grandfather clock continued to faithfully tick off the minutes as it did before and would do for time out of mind.

"You need to sign these," Greger ordered Remus in the same raspy, dry voice as before. He thrust several papers into Remus's hands. The crisp, new parchment born the heavy title of "Werewolf Traveling Verification." Remus inwardly flinched at the title, but scanned down to the bottom of the first section, where he signed his name. He knew what these papers would say. Greger told him when he first entered the country.

'_If anything what so ever happens while you stay here, it will be traced to you_,' the old man told him stiffly. Remus scribbled his name under the line indicating that any attacks or harm to wizarding folk or Muggles were unrelated to his presence. He indicated that he traveled because of a death and only stayed the amount of days in a foreign country allowed by law for werewolves. He then scribbled his name under the heading that declared that there had been no full moon during his stay.

Greger wordlessly took the papers back. His stare scrutinized Remus as he studied each line Remus signed. '_Bjorn is so different_,' Remus reflected as Greger's piercing eyes stabbed Remus again. "Your wand."

Remus fished in his pocket and produced his striped wand. Greger wordlessly removed both stripes. He dropped Remus's wand back on his lap, not wanting to make contact with the man. '_Some people_,' Remus reflected wryly as Greger's eyes fell upon the box.

"I need to inspect that." Without another word or pretense, Greger went over and threw away the lid. He shifted through the contents carelessly. He tossed many of the books upon the floor of his office, but he didn't probe through page by page. Remus took slow, even breaths, trying not to betray himself.

"There will be a port key available shortly for your travel," Greger informed Remus as he finished with his box. He left many of the items strewn across the floor. Remus got up and placed each book back into the box before picking it up. He opened the door and went back to grab his suitcase.

"Your grandson was a very commendable host," Remus commented amiably. '_I'll keep my promise,_' he told himself; he felt some pride in that fact. Greger snorted, and something like a sneer flickered across his features.

"The boy is unfit. He's too flighty," Greger's voice seeped with disdain. Remus nodded curtly as he turned on his heel and promptly left the uninviting office. The air seemed easier to breathe now that he moved away from Greger. Even the silent hallway held less terror now that he knew the letters stayed hidden.

'_The Ministry never did much for me_,' Remus reflected as he reached the lobby again. He gazed up and watched the false clouds glide across their equally fake sky.

His hands remained clenched together, even though his knuckles turned white. However, his face remained impassive, completely and utterly controlled. His gut swirled in sickening circles, but the apparent calm in his soft, sable eyes would never betray that sickness which churned inside him. Despite the courteous nod Remus gave to the person who entered the elevator with him, he remained a man apart.

He wore a slightly wrinkled gray suit. It fit his thin, lanky frame well and made him look stately. The small purple bags under his eyes hinted at a lack of sleep, but no one would have bothered to wonder about him. March 10, 1978 dawned today, and despite his mother's funeral yesterday, he woke early to go to the Ministry. He slept in his suit, but the single person that took the elevator to the fourth floor with him remained oblivious to this fact.

Remus Lupin remained a man apart. Today, he would register as an of age werewolf. His parents claimed sole responsibility for him since his bite, but today, that changed. He would mark himself. Anyone who was of age could ask for a list of the names of all of age werewolves. Now, they could read his name and mark him, too.

As the door clinked open, he silently begged it would shut again. The other person with him disembarked from the elevator. The hallway remained deserted, and his shoes clicked on the marble floor as he ambled slowly past each door. He read each title, searching for the one where he would enter to mark himself.

He heard a third set of footsteps behind him. They followed him long after the sound of the second person in the elevator faded. When he found his door and paused in front of it, the other person stopped walking, too.

"Remus," Edouard Lupin murmured in a dry, raspy voice. '_Go away_,' Remus silently pleaded as he reached for the doorknob. "I . . . you need these."

Remus turned around as if each movement towards his father caused an exceptional effort. Finally, he faced the aged man with thin, gray hair. Edouard's hairline receded in the past several years, and a bald patch glistened in the center of his head. Remus snatched the papers from his father's hands. He turned away and went to wrench open the door, almost relieved to enter.

"You'll need money," Edouard stated flatly. Remus faltered for a moment. '_Leave_,' Remus once again begged silently as he tightened his grip on the knob. The sweat from his own hands made it difficult to hold, but he refused to let go. "Come home."

"Do you realize," Remus whispered even though no one else could hear them, "that I don't need you any more."

"You'll never -- "

"Get a job?" Remus finished his father's statement. If he had looked at the diminished and pathetic form of his father, he would have seen his jaw fall open. A look of pain flashed through the weary, faded eyes of the old accountant. The many groves of age in his father's face seemed to deepen as he gazed at his grown son.

"I'll manage," Remus assured his father. His tone dictated the end to the conversation. He turned the knob, yet remained in the hallway, not quite able to enter into the dimly lit room beyond.

'_Go_,' Remus commanded himself. He kept his eyes on the ground, refusing to look at his father's face. He knew it so well, but he pushed the images out of his mind.

'_Go_.' Remus took several steps into the foreboding room that he couldn't see yet. He focused only on the marble below his feet. All the images of his father he shoved from his mind. '_He never wanted you before. Home wouldn't be any better_,' Remus told himself as he took several more tentative steps into the unknown.

He passed the threshold and gathered the strength to pull the door shut.

The door clicked shut, but if he had looked, he would have seen his father standing in the empty hallway. If he had looked before the door shut, he would have seen the immense sorrow that consumed the crumpled form of Edouard.

Now, though, Remus Lupin remained a man apart.

The gentle, pastel blue sky allowed thick, potential rain clouds to drift across it. However, the clouds held no threat today and allowed the sun to tint them gold along the edges. The light streamed through in patches, and one of those special patches of light struck a little path in the forest.

The trees began to overcome their shyness as they allowed tender, green buds to blink out from their fragile fingertips. They stretched their new shoots towards the gentle light that thawed them from a winter of hibernation. The braver birds that returned in the early spring alighted on the bare branches and recited their odes to the new growth and the sun. The songs became enchanted and echoed through the woods, which sucked away the rain into the newly thawed soil. The earth perfumed the waking forest with that smell of fresh earth that is distinct to spring. The moss, ferns, and tiny wildflowers began to blossom and added their distinct scents to that aroma of nature.

The sunlight warmed Remus's skin, but he welcomed it after the cold days in Sweden. '_This is my spring_,' Remus realized as he ambled along the little path in the forest. One hand remained in his pocket, fingering the two letters he carried with him. One had a purpose, and the other one refused to let him rest.

'_Bjorn should have come here_,' Remus thought of the chipper youth. In some way, he missed the company. '_His youthfulness did me some good_,' Remus realized as he gingerly touched the older of the two letters. He sighed as he turned a bend in the road where he glanced the first image of the house nestled in the forest.

The chimney rose gallantly up towards the canopy of the forest. The sun illuminated the red bricks a brilliant scarlet, but they remained just a small, insignificant part of the entire house. The large, charcoal and sienna stones that constructed the rest of the house seemed to transport the sprawling, one story dwelling to another time. '_It could be from the Middle Ages_,' Remus mused as he studied the now shingled roof which easily might have once been thatched. The building seemed to beckon from an era long effaced by the modern world.

He approached another bend in the path that would lead into the clearing in front of the small, yet elegant building. Sunlight flushed into the gleam ahead of him. A swath of green grass and little, purple wildflowers sprouted from the earth and danced in the sunlight. They seemed to tempt Remus to turn the bend and walk on them.

"Share yourself, let it go," a woman's voice sang from some where close. Remus jumped slightly as the sound startled him. He gripped the letters and peeked through the thin foliage trying to find who sang.

"It's better to breath for you," the woman sang a tune that seemed to lack only accompaniment. Yet, the forest seemed to turn her clear voice into something more. She didn't try to make it melodic or particularly in tune. '_She doesn't know I'm here_,' Remus realized as he spied a bright patch of neon pink in the forest.

"Work with me, we never knew enough, too true," she continued her private concert. He spied her. '_That's not Andromeda_,' Remus realized as he watched the petit witch wandering through the forest. '_She's too young_.'

"We didn't know what do to. Fall too fast, fly too far, it's true," she continued in her little song. '_I bet that's her daughter, the auror_,' Remus thought as he watched the young woman stroll around in the edge of the spring forest. "I never knew enough about you. Double-faced, it's true."

'_I'm glad Sirius didn't come_,' Remus realized as he watched the young woman. '_Hard to believe she's an auror._' Remus fingered both letters as he eyed the apparently carefree woman as she picked up a stick and used it for a microphone.

"Can lies save truth? Was it enough to save you?" she shouted at the stick. Remus couldn't suppress the grin that stretched across his lips. "When it's wrong, what can I do? You nearly broke this, you tore it apart. Double-faced, it's true."

'_Time I got this done_,' Remus thought as he stepped off the path and walked towards the woman who just gave him a private concert.

"Hello!" Remus shouted, trying to make his presence known. '_She's still an auror_,' he reminded himself. '_I wouldn't enjoy a hexing today_.'

In an instant, she dropped the stick and drew her wand. Her sparkling, ebony eyes that looked like black jewels searched the woods. "Who's there?"

"Just delivering a letter," Remus announced as he put both hands in the air. She studied him for a moment before lowering her wand. She placed one hand on her hip as he came closer.

"For me?" she quizzically studied him. She extended a hand after he'd finally made his way close enough to see her own clothing in disarray. Some odd color stains decorated her yellow T-shirt, and the frays on the bottom of her jean legs appeared to have been drug through something that dried a vomit yellow color. "Tonks."

"Remus Lupin," he replied cordially. He inwardly smirked at the slightly off-kilter woman who appeared to just be running around her property today. "I've never heard that song."

"It's 'Double Faced' by The Blood Traitors," Tonks replied with pride in her voice. "That was probably really off key. I don't sing for people."

"I'm out of touch with the new bands," Remus chuckled. Tonks grinned as she continued to examine the man who just tramped onto her property.

"So, what's this letter?" she asked.

"For your mum," Remus replied as he put his hand into his pocket. He drew out both letters without a thought.

"My mum hasn't lived with my dad and me since I was nine," she retorted. "I can't give it to her. I don't know where that foolish woman went."

"Well," Remus muttered as he stuffed his father's letter back into his pocket. "I can't give this to you, then."

"Why not? It's better in my hands, anyway." She extended the hand that wasn't planted on her hip to take the letter. Remus studied her thin, white hand before glancing at Sirius's letter. '_I can't_,' he thought as he went to put that letter into his pocket, too.

"What's so special about it?" she asked, still not removing her beckoning hand. "I'm an auror, you know. I could take it from you."

Remus met her sparkling, obsidian eyes that demanded an answer. '_Will she do it?_' he wondered as he studied the twiggy woman. Her frame lacked stature, and physically, he might be stronger. '_I don't want to fight her over a letter_,' Remus thought wearily.

"The contents aren't specifically for you," Remus explained to her to make his point clear. A frown crossed her features as she wrinkled her nose.

"What if . . . I don't say a word about it. I'll make an Unbreakable Vow with you," she offered. He grimaced and shook his head.

"Just . . . I prefer to take people's word," he added as he reached for the letter again. Then, as he withdrew it from his pocket, an idea sparkled to life in his head. "If you want to read this letter, do it in the presence of Albus Dumbledore."

"My old headmaster?" Tonks asked as she cocked her head. "What are you getting at?"

"He'll explain it better than I," Remus suggested as he gently placed the letter in her outstretched hand. She now seemed slightly miffed and studied the plain parchment for several minutes. Then, with a more subdued expression, she looked up once again at Remus.

"Well, I'll do that," she replied softly as she stuffed the letter into the back pocket of her jeans. "Nice to meet you."

"You too." With that, Remus turned on his heels, glad to be done with that mission. As he strode back through the forest, he realized that the weight of the other letter now hung heavy in his pocket. '_Why can't I be that eager to read it?_' he wondered as he wound his way to the meager, dirt path.

He turned his back on the house and the woman in the woods. If he had looked behind him, he would have seen her there, staring after him. Once he disappeared from her sight, she drew the letter again and fingered it gently. Remus never saw her, but further down the path, he fingered his own letter again.

However, instead of just gingerly touching it, he drew it out of his pocket. He studied the yellowing parchment in the sunbeams of the rejuvenated forest. With some effort, he opened the letter again.

_Dear Remus,_

Here, he paused and forced himself not to shove the note back into the folds of his robe. '_It would be so easy to forget it_,' he told himself, but his eyes strayed to the next line.

_I thought about sending this to you, but I don't have the strength left to do it. It's your birthday, you know, and some damned part of me misses you. I, the master at avoidance, can't break my habits in my old age. My parents ran me from place to place during that Muggle war and, after Grindelwald's defeat, ran me to England. The only time I never ran was when I saw her. I almost avoided Evey because she seemed so untouchable, but something about her was entirely tangible. She had her hair down and wore one of those dresses she liked. I couldn't tell you the color. As she read that book on that bench, I felt an attraction that I never experienced again._

_God, she was beautiful. Did you know how much like her you were? You smiled, and it was something in her face that shown out in you. When you laughed and played with her, nothing was more beautiful. Even now, I curse myself for ruining it._

_I had the report in my hands. I could have turned it in, implicating several people for stealing money. The one that I had the clearest evidence for was Abraxas Malfoy. It was quite a fraud, and they probably pilfered more money for years. They robbed the auror department, and every time I read about the failings of the aurors or a dark wizard in the paper, I cursed myself. I caused that. Because of me, dark wizards roamed free._

_I had the papers that day, ready to send, and I walked back into my office. I can still see that note on the desk. It said to check on my family. I rushed home, but it was too late. I burned those papers that evening, standing with you. I saw my broken wife and burned them. I ran again because they would kill next time. They went after you the first time, but she saved you both._

_I couldn't look at you without seeing my mistake. I looked at you, wondering what would have happened if I acted faster. What would have happened if I did the right thing? Would she be alive? Would we be a normal family, sitting in our house and laughing together? I don't know, but your faults became my faults. I wanted you safe and protected, but she knew what was best. She sent you away from me because she knew me. She knew I would shelter you, only to feel my own pain and relive my faults every time I saw you._

_So I ran again. This new country, this new place, has given me little hope, though. I can hardly find peace. Now, I know what she felt. She died faster, but I'm dying the same way except slowly. The past eats me, Remus. I can't escape it. Evey lost her will to live quickly, but I've lost it slowly. I've been running and hiding, waiting for my time to die. You won't come to me like you came to her._

_Edouard Lupin_

Remus calmly folded the letter with shaking hands. He drew out his wand and slowly touched it to the edge of the paper.

'_If you can, so can I,_' Remus thought as he lit the letter on fire. The edges rolled and curled into gray ashes. When the flame reached his fingertips, Remus let it flutter to the ground. When it touched the earth, only ashes remained of Edouard's letter.

Into the miserable gray sky a single crack of sickly, yellow sun broke. It struggled for life, but it found the ability to over come the darkness that lay around Hogwarts. Then, another beam of light followed the first. They struggled together to fight away the gray, pseudo dawn and usher in the sunrise.

The first, frail beams of light struck the young, yet careworn, face of Tonks. Her head rested against the cold glass in one of the many windows in one of the many insignificant rooms in Hogwarts. Her bloodshot eyes scanned the horizon, but her mind still ached from the events of the night. Her mind drew a miserable blank as the news of Dumbledore's death numbed her already tired form to almost everything.

Her brown hair cascaded around her heart shaped face. Her listless, ebony eyes now scanned the horizon as she crouched on the windowsill. She drew herself up protectively on the ledge and pulled her bony knees to her chest. She hugged them as more pale light fought against the gray dawn.

'_God, she looks bad_,' Remus thought as he watched the young woman from the other side of the room. They left the hospital wing together, but hadn't said a word to each other since. He still couldn't find the words that needed to be said, and part of him held back.

The young woman sighed as she patiently waited. '_Tell me, Remus, how you feel_,' she pleaded with him when they were alone.

'_I can't answer that,_' he realized again. The words remained stuck deep in his chest. When he reached for them, he could hardly find them. Only then did he realize how deeply he'd hidden these feelings, but the events of the night helped uncover them for him.

'_I need her to be okay,' _Remus thought as he watched the figure of Tonks at the windowsill. Unbidden, he saw the image of his mother dying flash into his mind. For a moment, the weary form of Tonks seemed to decay. In his mind's eye, he saw her wither away like Evey Lupin not so long ago.

"Tonks."

"The sun is rising," she muttered. He walked over to her; she moved so he could sit beside her on the window ledge. Both pairs of exhausted eyes peered out as a burst of yellow streaked across the horizon. A gush of orange followed it and illuminated their faces.

"Despite my feelings, I don't think this would work," Remus mumbled. Even to his own ears, his explanation lacked substance. Tonks snorted and then turned to face Remus. The dawn illuminated her ivory skin a soft, mango color.

"Even if I did take that as an answer, it doesn't matter. I need you, Remus. If I didn't want you in anyway, I would still need people." She stopped and reached for his hands. He let her take them. "Sometimes, you just need another person. People you need will never leave you, even if you cross the earth to get away from them. I need you."

"You don't understand, you . . ." Remus muttered, but paused in the middle of his explanation. A band of rose split into the sunrise and cast its faint, warm glow over the pair. "I haven't been close to anyone since I was a child."

A weary, yet relieved smile split over Tonks's face. Life glimmered back into her blood shot eyes. The tip of the sun peaked up over the tip of the earth and chased the shadows away from the earth. The dew glimmered in the new light that streaked through the little window.

"Worse things have worked out," Tonks spoke, but then leaned over to Remus. "Please, let whatever it is go and say you need me."

As the sun slowly rose from its slumber and flooded the world with light, a soft yet weary smile crept across Remus's face. 'She wanted me to be happy,' Remus thought as shafts of light struck the window. The pair became bathed in the ivory light of a new day, which, although destined to be sad, dawned with a moment's happiness.

As Remus leaned over and whispered in Tonks's ear, her hair changed into a burning flame of pink.


End file.
